A Saint, A Sinner
by BoondockAngel
Summary: Connor M./OC/Murphy M. A BDS prequel. May continue through BDS3 once Duffy gets around to writing and directing it. Parts totally PWP but a plot does show up eventually. Rated M for MacManus mouth, sexual situations, crude jokes, and smut. If you don't like this kind of thing, you've been warned. Note: The BDS belong solely to Troy Duffy and his brilliant brain.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: I do not own the MacManus characters or any other ones from the BDS-they belong rightfully to Troy Duffy. Shannon is the only fictional character who is mine. Rated M for MacManus mouth, sexual innuendo, crude jokes, and eventual smut. **

**Pre-BDS June 1998 through St. Patty's Day the following year**

**Lots of tongue-in-cheek BDS & BDS2 references**

Connor was the brother that roped me in. I freely admit it. When I first saw him, he was just 26 years old, young and dark-blond and free; a prankster full of fun. When it was cold, he favored black turtlenecks and blue jeans with a black pea coat. As the weather warmed, he switched to black T-shirts and blue jeans with wide black buckled belts. He also wore what I suspected were rosary beads; they would occasionally peek out from the neck of his shirt, making me think he was Catholic.

I watched him on the Red Line of the Massachusetts Bay Transport Authority—otherwise known as the T-for months, following through the seasons from a wet and freezing winter to the first warm days of summer in Boston. He had interesting tattoos which I studied surreptitiously through my lashes as he sat on the train across from me. Later in the spring, when he switched to T-shirts, I noticed the almost Art Deco interpretation of the Mother Mary on the left side of his neck. He had an amazingly intricate Celtic cross on his left forearm that was one of the most beautiful tattoos I had ever seen. But the most intriguing mark, the one I had been studying the longest, was one that said VERITAS on his left index finger. I wondered why a young man would have a tattoo like that on what appeared to be his dominant hand.

I also wondered at one point in the late spring if he was stalking me, but laughed it off as paranoia at seeing the same people every time I went home. Why would a hot man like him stalk me? I was only 27, but felt like I was 67 riding home from the hospital in my scrubs, covered in other people's germs and angst and filth.

I finally met Connor in the early summer. I rode home to South Boston from Massachusetts General Hospital every evening between 7:40 and 8:10, depending on how easily I extracted myself from my nursing duties in the emergency room. I saw the worst cases in the city and was becoming bitter and jaded after seven years working the ER. We seemed to get every gunshot wound and stabbing and rape victim in the city dumped in our laps. Our hospital was a bleeding sore on the side of a dying city; I knew it in my bones. I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand staying at the same job. I was facing burnout and was seriously considering leaving nursing. The problem was, what to do instead? Run home to mama in San Francisco? Things were no better at San Francisco General. After one particularly bad shift, I looked up to see a pair of stunning blue eyes staring into mine—for the third time this week. This candid eye contact after almost four months worried me. There was so much crime and drugs and evil in the streets, I decided taking the direct route might head off a potentially volatile or dangerous situation.

"What do you want?" I demanded. I could see the surprise on the beautiful dark-blond man's face, either because I had spoken at all or at the tone in my voice; I couldn't tell. I felt a bit aggressive tonight after the day I experienced. I was used to taking command of conversations and forcing outcomes. This strange man was irritating me—scaring me a bit, if I'm honest-and I wanted him to go away, regardless of how good looking he was.

"Well now, lovey, dat's a loaded question, now, id'nt'it?" He answered me with a genuine grin, mischief in his eyes, and an Irish brogue that flowed like honey. "Would ye care'ta come down t'the pub and have a pint an'bit'o conversation? Ye look as though ye need a bit of a _ceilidh_." I felt my knees go weak at the brogue. How can any woman resist an Irishman's accent? I laughed a little, surprised.

"A _ceildh_? What is that?" I asked, trying to buy time to evaluate him and his motives. The dark-blond man smiled winningly at me, moving to sit directly across from me, but careful not to invade my space. I wasn't picking up any creep vibes and he _was_ exceedingly good looking. He held eye contact and knew about body space issues. I watched his non-verbal behavior—the set of his shoulders, the way he smiled and crinkled his eyes, the way his hands danced when he spoke.

"Ah now, Lass, it's a bit'o a party if ye will. T'celebrate maybe gettin' off work? Tis'it yer Friday den?" he asked gently.

I hesitated. Why was this man after my grubby ass? And how did he know my schedule? "Yes. How did you know that?" I asked with conspicuous suspicion.

"Ah, Lass, I've a fair bit'o experience wit' hospitals an' de like due'ta scrapping a mite in me yout'." He joked. "Dis is de t'ird night I've seen ye on th'T in yer scrubs. I'm assumin' yer a nurse? Don't nurses usually work t'ree shifts n'a'row?" I nodded and he continued. "I've been watchin' ye because me brudder and I, bein' what we are, always have need fer a nurse." I smiled back at him. What he said was entirely plausible, very observant, and likely truthful.

"Due to the scrappin', no doubt." I trailed off, calculating. "Hmm. And where are you suggesting this _ceildh_, as you call it, be held?" I inquired, trying to ignore the idea of busted knuckles, cut eyebrows, and bloody lips that 'scrappin' usually entailed. Though, on second thought, his face was amazingly unmarked by scars except for the small mark in his left eyebrow; his face was almost angelic in its beauty.

"Ah, a wee pub in Southie a'called McGinty's. It's just a short walk off the train. I'll see you home safe after, if dat's what yer worrit about." Again he flashed that winning smile. I could feel my resolve weakening. What could it hurt? He seemed nice enough. We would be in a public place. I was lonely and tired and cranky and I didn't have to work for the next four days. An invitation by a hot Irishman was just what I needed. And whisky; let's not forget the lure of good Irish whisky.

"Aye," I copied his accent, joking, "But sure an'I'd like dat."

"Ooooh, she speaks wit th'accent too. I t'ink I'm half'in love a'ready." The young man grinned widely and scooted across the aisle to sit to my left. He picked up my left hand in his right and I noticed his left index finger again. I had enough Latin from school to know that his tattoo said truth.

"Hello, me lovely lass, an' what should I call ye?" He said while stroking my fingers and pouring on the charm.

"My name is Shannon." I said with a grimace of embarrassment.

"Now den, Shannon, it's a lovely '_E-rrish_' lass's name to match a beautiful girl. Why should ye be grimacin' like a gargoyle den?" I couldn't think of a single way to answer that one. I also wasn't sure my face being compared to a gargoyle–one which would feel right at home on top of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross—was all that flattering. I laughed instead and chose to be direct, ignoring his comment.

"What's your name and why do you have truth tattooed on your finger?" The man had game. He smiled mischievously and squeezed my fingers.

"Ye know yer Latin, I see!" He smiled, crinkling his eyes and batting ridiculously long eyelashes. "M'name's Connor, Connor MacManus. Me brudder's name is Murphy, and I guarantee ye, he's goin'ta love ye on sight." He said, apropos of nothing. I raised my eyebrows in question, waiting for further explanation.

"Our tattoos match, ye see. Mine is _veritas_ and his _aequitas_ with a wee nod to our Celtic Catholic faith wit' the crosses." He angled his left forearm for a better view, preening a bit. His words seemed to imply much more by this simple statement than what he said aloud, but I let it go. I began to see how my night might turn out. Two tough, pretty, tattooed Irish Catholic bad-boys in Southie, lots of whisky, laughter…I made a snap decision. I would let him take me to the bar for my _ceilidh _as he called it. I could always call a cab if I needed to get back home.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor immediately lit a cigarette when we got off the T two stops past my own apartment in an even more run-down section of town. He fell in comfortably on my left side, walking close, but not touching. I wondered if I was crazy, but he seemed to loom over me without meaning me any harm. It seemed like he was projecting…..what? An overt threat? Carefully leashed power? Something. But it was directed outward, creating a bubble around us; I was strangely comfortable with it. At the first whiff of nicotine though, I was distracted. I might have even moaned.

"Can I have a drag?"

"Sure. Here. Huh, ye smoke?"

"No," I said, taking the cigarette from his hand. "I just sneak."

Connor laughed out loud. "Really, a sneak are ye?"

"Um, no…no, not really," I said inhaling greedily. "I'm not a sneak. I'm actually pretty honest, all in all. But I don't _want_ to smoke. However, I seem to have a wee habit I would like to kick. It's bad for you." I scolded.

"Mmm-hmm, den. And how's dat goin' for ye?" He asked, taking the cigarette back from me without a qualm of conscience.

"Not so good, obviously." I exhaled smoke through my nose. "But I had a shitty day and I needed it. Thank you."

"Aye, I'm sorry, Lass. I could see it on yer face dat yer day wasn't de best. Tell me about'it?" He asked softly.

"Ah, you don't want to know," I grimaced again, this time in anger, staring off to the right, away from him. "Just another day in the ER of a hospital which is a dumping ground for the worst victims, in a city going to hell in a handbasket. The shit I see…..ach. It makes me want to puke." I took the cigarette back out of his hand for a quick drag and handed it back. I decided to change the subject; I just didn't want to talk about it and I think he read it on my face again. "Why don't you tell me about this brother of yours? 'De one dat is goin'ta love ye on sight'." I quipped. I could see I surprised him, whether with my mimicry or my ability to repeat things back to him.

"_An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?_" (Do you have the Gaelic?) I could tell he asked a question and I thought I recognized the word Gaelic, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I raised an eyebrow in question.

"Never mind, Lass," he shushed me gently. He took another drag and ground out the last of the cigarette. "Weel den. Murph is me twin," He said, as if this explained everything. I made a sound of encouragement and rolled my finger, silently asking for more information.

"Me fraternal twin," Connor elaborated, smirking. "Ye'll see how he is soon enough." I raised my eyebrows at this, but let it bide.


	3. Chapter 3

McGinty's was just a blue-collar hole in the wall in Southie, but it was crowded, had Irish whisky and music on the jukebox, and the craziest bartender I had ever met. When Connor escorted me in and up to the bar, wedging us between two drinkers, the man behind the bar looked at Connor with a smile.

"A-a-a-and, is dis the girl ye've been meanin' ta-ta-ta-ta. Fuck! Ass!" My eyebrows nearly reached my hairline and I looked at Connor questioningly. Fuck ass?

"T'bring to Murphy?" The bartender continued in a normal cadence. I could feel the dark-haired man to my right suddenly stiffen and turn to pay attention to the conversation, but Connor preempted me from looking at him.

"Never mind his words, Lass, dat's just how he is; he canna help it." Connor murmured in my ear, pulling my attention back to him, directing me back to the bartender with a glance. "Aye, Doc, dis is de girl. She's had a bit'o a day workin' down to the hospital. Shannon, dis is Doc. Doc, dis is me best girl Shannon." Connor grinned triumphantly. Hmmm, I bit my lip. I had obviously been a topic of conversation prior to tonight. I wondered if this had been such a good idea after all, visions of stalkers and rapists and murderers in my head.

"'Allo dere, dar-dar-dar….sweetheart." Doc said smiling benignly.

"Hello, Doc." I said holding out my hand hesitantly for a soft hand shake. When he released my fingers, I heard the dark-haired man next to me speak.

"_C'est elle_?" (It's her?) I turned my head to stare into another pair of devastatingly blue eyes these framed with dark lashes and dark hair. Connor nudged me a bit closer to the one who had spoken.

"Da." (Yes) Connor said turning my body with his hand on my shoulder. "Shannon, dis is me brudder, Murphy." Connor nudged me forward further, until I was nearly standing between the dark haired man's legs. I could smell him over the smoke and whiskey and stale beer. He smelled like….I can't even describe it. Love? Sex? Man? Murphy? I wanted to sniff him more but didn't dare lean any closer. I just inhaled.

"Hi." I said, smiling shyly. Murphy was dressed identically to Connor in a faded black T-shirt and blue jeans. I could see a mirrored tattoo of Connor's Virgin Mary on the left side of his neck as he turned his head. If anything, he was even more beautiful than Connor. Was that possible? Murphy scrutinized me closely for a second, searching my face, and then stared over my shoulder at his brother, some strange sort of unspoken conversation occurring. I could feel the connection vibrating around me, but nothing was said.

The darker haired twin retuned his eyes to mine and said softly, '_Moyo sertse palno lyubvl'."_ (My heart is full of love). I was confused. He was obviously sincere, but was he speaking to me? I looked back to Connor for confirmation, but he was looking at Murphy at that moment. Connor just nodded, glancing at me.

"_Einfach, bruder_. _Gehen sie langsam mit ihr. Ich glaube sie ist das einzige._" (Easy, brother. Go slow with her. I think she's the one). Switching back to a language I could understand, he continued, "Really, Lass, me budder here does speak th'King's English occasionally." He glanced at his brother, reaching over my right shoulder, abruptly smacking Murphy lightly in the back of the head. "Say hello to the lass, Murph." I felt like a yo-yo, my head turning back and forth between the two brothers. Murphy bristled.

"Christ, Connor!" he raised his voice, swiping over my right shoulder at Connor, knocking over his half full beer glass in the ruckus.

"Lord's fuckin' name!" Connor retorted, left hand holding me still as the brothers fought with me trapped between them. Connor had Murphy by the scruff of his T-shirt, shaking him.

"Mother Mary, full of grace." Murphy pulled back and murmured, crossing himself in an automatic gesture. Things seemed to have stalemated, the brothers glaring at each other. So, this was the brother that I would see about soon enough?

"Um, Murphy?" I asked hesitantly as glaring dark blue eyes focused on mine. "Hello." Murphy's eyes instantly softened, encouraging me to hold out my hand. He took my fingers in his, squeezing mine gently. AEQUITAS was the first thing I noticed after I tore my eyes away from his: _justice_. He also had the same stunningly executed Celtic cross tattoo on his forearm. Connor had been truthful though he had failed to tell me they were opposites. Murphy's tattoos were on his dominant hand and forearm, his right.

"Hello, me lovely girl. Care fer a drink?" Murphy smiled at me, secrets flashing mischievously in his dark blue eyes as Doc put three Guinness beers on the bar in front of us, pouring three Jameson shots immediately thereafter. I could feel Connor at my back, fairly quivering in anticipation. The angry tension had magically dissipated between the brothers and I relaxed with it.

"Why yes, me lovely laddie, I'd like dat." I laughed, picking up my whisky and toasting first Connor and then his darker twin. Murphy's eyebrows went up at my accent, but he gamely raised his glass in toast, smoke from his cigarette curling up towards the ceiling.

"Slainte!" The brothers said in perfect unison.


	4. Chapter 4

**Youth Brigade and the incomparable song I Hate My Life**

Woke up hung like a ton of bricks,  
don't know where the hell I am!  
Who's this naked next to me?  
What did I do?!  
I gotta pee!  
Can't work or, go to school today.  
Can't remember if I do that anyways.  
Got some money, got no clue, the world's a mess!

I woke up grumpy, spurred to raise my eyelids by the distant knowledge of a toilet. I could smell scrumptious male musk mixed with stale whisky and nicotine. Early morning bird chatter mixed with a light snoring which seemed to originate about three inches from my nose. Christ, I thought, immediately amending that to 'Lord's fuckin' name.' Where did _that_ come from I wondered? Wasn't there something about mixed metaphors and proverbs too?

I was sweating, my long hair was a rat's nest spread messily over the pillow and in my face, and I was facedown on a mattress with what felt like a brick wall lying on my left shoulder. Where the hell was I? I cracked one eyelid cautiously and jerked involuntarily as I saw Connor's face curled into mine, snoring softly and radiating heat onto my right side. My small movement disturbed whoever was behind me, making that person's right hand tighten on the hip closest to Connor and the naked leg wedged between mine nudge my left butt cheek. I was very still for a moment, not daring to move. I realized slowly that at least it was a man lying to my left; I could feel the morning evidence. Good God, I thought, what had I done? I couldn't remember. And for fuck's sake, who was the man behind me? Please let it be Murphy, I wished fervently. Then, thoughts randomly reverberating around my aching brain, I weirded myself out by wondering if I had slept with two brothers. Oh. My. Lord.

My head ached like a bitch and there was a crick in my neck from being twisted to the right. I wiggled a bit experimentally, realizing I was in fact dressed, albeit in what felt like a T –shirt and….shorts? Maybe things weren't as bad as could be imagined. My bladder was making urgent spasms, pushing me to move further. I took a deep breath, raising my head enough to free my right arm so I could push at Connor, with exactly no effect on the snoring man. The man behind me grunted though, and shifted enough so I could roll onto my left side. This movement didn't do much for my head or my current situation as the arm snaking around me from behind only tightened around my waist.

"Murph?" I asked hesitantly. The arm around me tightened in response and whiskers scratched my neck, nuzzling. I pushed up with my right arm causing the man behind me to stretch into one giant body rub against mine.

"Murph? I asked again, pushing hair out of my face. I asked a little louder this time and a little more insistently, but with the same response: a squeeze and nuzzle and a sinuous full body rub as his stretched against mine.

"Murph!" I fairly shouted, jerking at the arm squeezing my bladder. Connor just snorted once and then resumed his light snoring.

"Hmm-nnnh." The man behind me murmured, kissing my neck and tickling me. I flinched. And then, a little more clearly, he said, "No."

"Murphy, you are going to have to let me up. I have to pee! Move!" There was an eruption of bedclothes and the warmth of the body behind me was suddenly gone. Face flaming, I turned to look at him standing at the edge of the bed. I wasn't sure I was relieved or dismayed to see the man decently covered in boxers, but at least it _was _Murphy, not just some random guy. I looked down as I wrapped my hair in a quick knot at the nape of my neck. All I could think was—what a slut; first date and all that.

"Come den, girl," Murphy said softly, extending a hand to help me out of bed. It was then I realized the toilet was completely out in the open and lacking a toilet seat. My face fell. Not only was I in an illegal loft in Irishtown, in South Boston, in a bachelor's pad, in a room with two beds-but three of us in _one_ bed—indicating strongly I may have fucked the brothers, but I had to pee in front of them? Oh no.

"What den?" Murphy asked when I didn't immediately take his offered hand. Really?

"Murph, I said I have to pee." I said, staring with horror at the wall with the toilet. He glanced behind him with a hint of humor.

"Aye. Me too. I'll turn me back if ye'll turn yers. Connor won't wake up, don't'cha worry, girl." He said with a hint of humor, squinting his eyes at me and shaking his head in that way he had.

"Okay, then, you go first." I said petulantly, crossing my arms and resolutely clamping down on my bladder.

"Aye, den, have it yer way." He acquiesced gracefully—or was it arrogantly?—turning away from me and sauntering toward the toilet. "Be sure to turn yer back, girl. No peekin'!" I turned around. I couldn't believe this was fuckin' happening. I stared hard at Connor's sleeping form, trying to figure out how close to wakefulness he might be. I heard the toilet flush.

"Alright, den, girl, yer turn." Murphy said quietly, heading for the kitchen area. The loft was one giant room with no effort at partitions or nod to anything but basic living. I scooted for the toilet, wishing for doors and curtains and toilet seats and SoftScrub. Good God, but my head ached. I couldn't do much about my head, but at least I could fix the bladder issue.


	5. Chapter 5

Superficially relieved, I skirted the beds, heading for a rickety table littered with ashtrays, empty Murphy's Irish Stout cans, and other detritus of varying 'ick' levels. I sat down with my arms on my knees, head in my hands. I could hear Murphy rattling around in the kitchen for a while, then the scrape of a chair pulling up close to me. I was still hot and sweaty and embarrassed. My head ached fiercely and I wondered how to extract myself from this situation. Murphy cleared his throat when I didn't look up.

"Aspirin. Water." He said, handing me a glass and the pills. I swallowed gratefully.

"Thanks." I croaked.

"You okay, _a shearc_?" (My love?). It sounded to my ringing ears like a-hark.

"What?" I asked blearily.

"Nothin', girl. Coffee will be done shortly." He answered, rubbing my neck in sympathy. I just groaned, wondering how in the hell I was going to extricate myself from this situation. I didn't know where my clothes were; I wasn't even wearing my bra for God's sake. However, life in the ER had taught me it was best to meet things head on.

"Um, Murph." I hesitated.

"Aye?" He said, lighting his first cigarette. Smoke curled around his head as he exhaled.

"What happened last night?" I asked my head still in my hands.

"What happened?" He asked innocently, blowing an effortless smoke ring. I looked up at that and glared a bit.

"Yeah, what _happened_?"

He chuckled. "I'd say a lot o'whisky an'beer an'fun."

"Murph!" I grabbed the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag.

"What? It _was_ fun!" He replied, raising his eyebrows in feigned innocence. Apparently he wasn't going to give me any details. He just stood up and went back towards the kitchen. I dropped my head back into my hands. I realized the clothes I did have on had to belong to the boys; my T-shirt was a faded black and I was wearing plaid boxers. The good news, in light of the state of the loft, was they appeared to be clean. I groaned softly again.

I heard a chunking sound on the table and looked up. Murphy retrieved his cigarette I left smoldering in the ashtray and set down a cup of coffee. I looked up at him gratefully.

"Aye, there's a bit'o milk in it like ye like." Now I was surprised.

"How did you know that?" I asked.

"Like I said, girl." He smiled wickedly, "Last night was fun. We learned all kinds of t'ings about ye."


	6. Chapter 6

I was beginning to feel a bit more human after another drag on Murphy's cigarette and two cups of coffee when Connor stirred. I turned around to see him as he bounded out of bed—thankfully also clad in boxers—full of energy. I just groaned, knowing what was coming. Instead, I was surprised. Again.

Connor went directly to the coffee while Murphy sat smoking, sipping his own coffee. They traded comments back and forth in a low, guttural language I took for Russian, but wasn't sure. Instead of trying to decipher what they were saying, I took a moment now that my brain was beginning to function to appreciate the shear maleness of the two. Lord, but they were fuckin' beautiful. Connor's body was long and sleek and perfectly balanced; he had an athlete's build like a long distance runner or a baseball player. In contrast, Murphy was heavily muscled through the shoulders and arms with a hint of what I called squish around his middle. He wasn't chubby by any stretch of the word, but he wasn't as ripped down as his more exuberant brother. I knew I was in trouble, just looking at them. They made my mouth water. I could feel a blush starting at what I was thinking and what I had possibly already done with the two of them.

Connor filled his coffee cup and padded barefoot to me. Without any warning, he ran his fingers through my hair, gently pulling my pink-tinged face up to look in his eyes.

"Mornin' Lass." He smiled. "_Tá tú go h'álainn_" (You are beautiful). My mouth opened to ask what he meant but he abruptly bent to kiss me, forestalling my question. I felt my lips stiffen in resistance initially, but he was persistent, rubbing his lips against mine.

"Aye, Lass, relax. Kiss me." He whispered softly against my lips, tightening his grip in my hair, knocking it out of the careless knot I had put it in earlier. My waist length hair fell down my shoulders as my lips opened further and he deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with mine. He smelled like sleepy man and coffee and something that was indescribably Connor. It was delicious. My left hand let go of my coffee cup and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer into the searing kiss. I felt heat flush up my chest as he pulled back to look at me. His eyes in the bright morning sunlight were startlingly blue.

**"**_Ise a bhfuil mo chroí aici_" (She who has my heart) Connor muttered to Murphy, pulling away and letting me go. I looked sideways at Murphy, who sat across the table watching us closely, smoking his cigarette. I could feel the tide of red sweep up my neck in embarrassment this time. I bit my lip.

"Aye," Murphy agreed seriously, nodding. I was stunned by the kiss, but Connor just nodded nonchalantly at his brother in agreement. I had no idea what they were saying.

"Murph?" Connor asked, this time with some sort of silent dialogue between the brothers.

"Aye," Murphy agreed again in a different tone of voice, moving around the table. "Come'ere, girl." He held his hand out to me. I looked at him questioningly. He motioned silently for me to take his hand. When I stood, he suddenly sat in my chair, pulling me onto his lap. I nearly lost my coffee cup in the process, bobbling it while I gripped my left arm around his neck, trying desperately not to fall onto the floor.

"I've got ye, girl." He chuckled, gripping my waist and steadying my coffee cup. "But for fuck's sake, don't be spillin' the hot coffee on us!" I whipped my head back to the left to look at him and he captured my lips with his. I pulled back, feeling awkward. His lips were soft and his whiskers had scratched my chin pleasantly, but it was odd to be kissing him moments after his brother.

"Come, girl, kiss me. Connor's busy for a second. No peekin', aye?" I gazed into his eyes so close to mine and laughed helplessly.

Dropping my forehead against his I asked, "Why in the _hell_ do you not have a fuckin' curtain around the blessed toilet?"

He shook his head, pulling my head down to meet his lips. He whispered, "Because we never had a reason before." I was lost as he kissed me senseless.


	7. Chapter 7

Connor plopped down in the chair Murphy sat in earlier. I wiggled a bit on Murphy's lap, feeling his hardness against my hip. Connor cocked an eyebrow at Murphy.

"Shower, brudder?"

"Aye, only wit the girl though. Ye can stay here and drink coffee fer a bit. I'd like her t'myself dis morn." Murphy replied, laughing and squeezing my waist tighter. "No sharin'." I could feel my face heat again as I tried to squirm away. _What_ had we done last night?

"What, Lass? Not up for a repeat performance dis mornin'?" Connor asked in response to the look on my face. "It'd only be wee Murph. He _is_ the younger brudder ye know. And at least ye would be clean after tis over." Murphy almost unshipped me from his lap, trying to swat Connor over the table with his left hand. I went from squirming away to holding on for dear life in an attempt not to land on the floor a second time this morning.

"Murph!" I yelled. "Knock it off." Glaring blue eyes turned back to me, softening instantly.

"Aye, girl. Sorry for scarin' ye." He said, bringing my lips to his again for another coffee-laced kiss while Connor looked on this time, smoking his own cigarette. Murphy was infinitely gentle, asking rather than taking this time. He seemed to pour himself towards me, both hands wrapped in my hair as I clung to his shoulders. I had never felt anything like it before. When he broke the kiss, I slowly opened my eyes to stare vacantly at him.

"An' dat's how it's done, brudder." Murphy said with satisfaction, looking at the expression on my face. "Fuck a bunch of dis younger brother shite."

"Ah, yer the one tis full of shite, Murph. Ma always said it'tis the brudder with the bigger cock who's de eldest." Connor paused, then looked at me seriously, "What do you say, Lass? Who's de eldest?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. How was I supposed to answer this? _They_ didn't know who was older? Their _mother_ said this? I could feel my face turn bright red as Murphy began to laugh. Connor held a straight face longer, but then he couldn't help it and fell out too.

"Christ, Murph!" Connor chortled. "Look at'er face! Priceless it'tis!"

"What?" I squeaked, pushing ineffectually against Murphy's strength as he wrapped me in his arms.

"Lord's fuckin' name, Connor!"—"What the bloody _hell_ are you two saying?" –"Mother Mary, full of grace." Our words overrode each other. Murphy held me tight as I wiggled and fought and squirmed away, they both still laughing like jackasses.

Finally, I gave up, realizing they were likely teasing me and nothing probably happened last night—though I still couldn't explain why I wasn't in my own clothes. There was no fighting these two loons and I gave in gracefully to their teasing.


	8. Chapter 8

After they finally settled down, reduced to hiccupping and giggling to each other, I asked, "So, if nothing happened last night, where are my clothes? And whose clothes am I wearing?" I looked between the brothers, Murphy's right arm still holding me loosely on his lap.

"Mmmm, I tink yer tings are under th'covers at the end of me bed." Murphy answered, pointing with his chin towards the double bed closest to the shower, explaining obliquely how I could have changed while maintaining some modesty. I just hoped I wasn't so drunk last night I was able to retain modesty.

"Dat's me T-shirt yer wearin'." Connor chimed in, grinning from across the table and taking a sip of coffee.

Murphy echoed proudly, "And yer in me boxers, which look mighty fine on ye."

"We didn't peek, Lass, we promise." Connor said suddenly serious, seeing the look on my face.

"An' ye got inta bed under yer own power, aye?" Murphy added helpfully.

I had just started to relax when Connor added to the conversation "Doesn't mean we didn't _feel_, mind ye. And, speakin' fer myself, I've got a healthy imagination. Care to shower wit me instead to see just how good it'tis?" Connor shifted uncomfortably on the chair, readjusting, and looked comically hopeful.

I had a better idea about their sense of humor now. I could still feel the hardness of Murphy pressed against my hip. I knew they were both semi-serious, but weren't likely to pressure me into anything. I couldn't control the heat that pooled in my pelvis or the blush creeping up my face, but I could control my actions. There was no way I was going to get into an open shower with Connor while his brother watched the morning show or vice versa.

"Uh-uh." I said, standing up. "I need way more coffee and time before I do anything stupid like that boys." This time, Murphy released me so I could stand, albeit a bit reluctantly.

"I'd say it'tis'nt coffee she needs, Murph. The lass is no light-weight, but tis a bit less whisky next time, brudder." Connor muttered, shaking his head ruefully as I went to refill my cup from the coffee maker. "Dat way she won't pass out on us."

"Aye. I t'ink yer right. I'll shower first while it's still cold." Murphy grunted, heading towards the open shower. I just shook my head staring after him as he walked towards the other end of the giant room. Connor took my hand leading me back toward the kitchen.

"Come, Lass, ye may need t'know how to make coffee if yer goin' t'be here. I'll show ye how to run the hand grinder and the percolator so's there'll be no peekin' at me brudder's lily white arse." Oh, Lord. Help me not stare at Connor's lovely chest was all I could think. I couldn't do anything but laugh ruefully at these two crazy men. And then I amended it all to a question: percolator? What the fuck?


	9. Chapter 9

While a freshly showered Murphy had another cup of coffee wearing only his jeans and belt, still distractingly naked from the waist up, I attempted to down a gallon of water, hoping to fix my hangover. Lord, how much whisky did I actually drink?

"So, yer a nurse, aye? Connor and I could use ye around. On standby like. Ye know, just in case." He chuckled.

"Yeah. That's me. It's what I do best; patchin' lads up." I smiled a bit, but my heart wasn't in it.

"Do ye like it den?"

"Some days."

"Yer not much for talkin' about yer job are ye?"

"Nah, Murph, I try to leave my work at work. Actually, my job sucks. I see all the broken people in this city. I can't fix it. All we can do is clean them up as best we can and send them on their way. Where I work? It's a bleeding, financial drain on this dying, morbid city." I sighed, "But, it pays the bills with some to spare, saving for a house someday."

"Aye, I kin see dat." Silence descended between us. The only sound in the loft was the sound of water running for a minute as Connor showered. Then Murph reached out his right hand and touched my fingers. I felt an arc of electricity: _justice_. What the _hell_ was that, I wondered.

"So ye want a wee house some day?" He toyed with my fingers. "And maybe a coupla boys to keep house wit ye?" He added joking, but I thought I could detect a whisper of hopefulness in the comment. I couldn't help but smile.

"Aye, Murph. A couple of tough, pretty, tattooed Irishmen," I joked back. Connor touched my neck with his lips, warm from the shower, making me jump.

"Ye here dat, Murph? We're 'pretty' she says." He ran his hand down my cheek, turning my head for a soft kiss. I shivered as he drew it out: _truth _echoed in my head. When he pulled away, he murmured, "Jump in th'shower, Lass. We won't peek." I could see billowing clouds of steam at the end of the room where the shower had finally given up hot water, but raised an eyebrow at him. "We'll find ye somethin' to wear. There's a towel hanging off the handle on the right." Again, I just looked at him. "Really, Lass? Go take a fuckin' shower before de water runs cold agin!" He ordered, softening it a bit with, "Ye'll feel better, aye?" At this, I acquiesced, humbly stumbling off to the shower, hopefully secure they wouldn't peek. Some hope.


	10. Chapter 10

**A very oblique Outsiders reference that I couldn't resist**

I felt awkward sitting in the pew in the boys' clothes. There was no question of me going home. Both insisted I go to the Cathedral of the Holy Cross with them and wheedled me into it with the promise of breakfast after. I just didn't have the heart to tell them no, but I had no idea where this was going.

I thought I was passably pretty, but I was just an average girl, working a job and living in Southie. I wasn't rich, but I wasn't poor either. I had a nice family. My boobs were decent and I had managed to remain thin enough through exercise and my job. My best features were long black hair and blue eyes, but I would never be a super model. Maybe they liked me for my down to earth, no-nonsense personality? I smiled a little grimly at that. Or was it really my professional nursing skills they were after? Seemed they fought enough, with each other to be sure, to warrant a full time nursemaid.

I knew we looked odd; I was seriously underdressed for church. I didn't want to wear my dirty scrubs from the day before after my shower. Instead, the boys dressed me. I wore a T-shirt lent from Murphy and one of Connor's spare Levi's. The pants were rolled up at the ankles, cinched tight at the waist with his spare belt to keep it from gaping open, and tight across my ass and hips. My breasts stretched Murphy's worn black shirt, inappropriately rubbing against my nipples; I had never found my bra, though not for lack for trying. I suspected one of them had either disposed of it on the way home or hidden it away as some sort of trophy. I wouldn't put it past them to magically 'find' my bra at an inopportune moment—such as at the bar when it was packed full and some bet placed on a soccer game or some such.

They were dressed exactly the same, but with a better fit. They looked good; they fit here. Even I could see that.

Worse than how I was dressed was each boy, though devout, had a hand on me, Murphy his left and Connor his right though their other hands held their rosaries, lips moving silently in prayer with heads bent. I could see the other people in the Cathedral cutting their eyes at me: Whore of Babylon. I bent my head, pretending to pray so I could avoid the eyes on us. The man next to us continued to look at me though, and I felt the weight of his stare, trying to ignore it.

Connor squeezed my hand. He held my eyes for a moment and nodded, indicating I should stay put. Each boy sidestepped out to the main aisle and walked to the altar where Christ was hanging. I thought this was odd. Was this allowed? The priest didn't even bat an eyelash, just kept speaking as the men bypassed him. Each boy knelt and they bowed their heads for a few moments. From so far back in the Cathedral, I couldn't tell if they leaned forward to touch his feet. Then they both stood and walked back up the aisle towards me. I stood automatically based on something from Connor's body language. I stepped into the main aisle just in time for them to catch my hands. When we reached the door, each man put on sunglasses. Connor turned to me and carefully lowered my sunglasses from my head to cover my eyes.

"Ye'll regret it, if ye leave wit out puttin' dem on when you step out into de bright sunlight from de darkness o'de church." He kissed my lips casually and they led me outside.


	11. Chapter 11

Sorry, this one is short

We stood on the steps of the Cathedral, each of them lighting a cigarette. They were like mirrors, Murphy to my right and Connor to my left.

"What de ye t'ink, Murph?" Connor looked to his right. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me, at his brother, or something down the street because of his dark sunglasses. Murphy stared to the right as well. Again, some sort of subliminal communication passed through me. I swear they were talking to each other without looking or speaking.

"Eh." Murphy shrugged. "Let's go get some fuckin' breakfast. I can hear her stomach rumblin' from here. Best feed her, aye? She might t'row us over for de schtupid bastard sittin' next to us in de pew if'n we don't." I started. They had seen that? Murph was straight-faced as Connor led us to the left towards a diner and food. At least he said it in English.


	12. Chapter 12

They were so grim after church; I wasn't sure if it was what they saw off to the right of the Cathedral or they were worried about their sins of the night before. Neither had gone to confession, though we hadn't done anything sinful that I was aware.

Oh, wait, taking the Lord's name in vain, lust with overtones of bigamy—but they were twins-my mind shouted to itself. Where did _that_ come from I wondered, idly? I tried to pull my scattered thoughts together, fighting my headache. I furrowed my brow, trying to remember if taking Lord's name in vain and lust were a mortal sins requiring confession. I couldn't remember. Uh-oh, I thought, distraction in church, inappropriate language, fighting among siblings, intemperance, not reigning in one's imagination. I should just give up now.

"So Connor, what's this about comparin' my face to a gargoyle?" I asked as a conversational gambit after we ordered, seeing if I could get a rise out of either of them.

"What, Connor? Ye called dis beauty a gargoyle and she still came't th'bar wit ye?" Murphy coughed out a laugh, looking up under his lashes at me from across the table. Murphy moved his foot to press against mine under the table.

"Aye, she did. She's got good taste." Connor replied, taking my left hand and stroking my fingers. "And yer face doesn't look like a gargoyle. Ye just frowned somethin' fierce when ye told me yer name. What's wit'dat, Lass?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, gathering my thoughts. "Well, you see, my name might be Shannon and I may look Black Irish, but I'm only about half…..Irish, that is. I'm certainly not '_E-rrish_' like most of the people in Southie. My parents didn't even name me Shannon for my Irish heritage. They named me Shannon because they liked the name for a girl." I grimaced again, but the boys only raised their eyebrows in question. Feeling I should elaborate, I continued, "Back in the 70's here in America, boys were mostly named Shannon." I shoveled French toast into my mouth, trying to cover my embarrassment at this admission. It also helped I was ravenous. Both men just looked at me again, Connor with his eyebrows up and Murphy with a smirk.

"Aye? And?" Connor made a rolling motion with his index finger. I swallowed and wiped my lips, turning to him.

"I'm not from Boston, I'm from San Francisco." I could feel a tide of red sweep up my chest.

"_And_?" Murphy stressed.

"And, well, I'm only nominally Catholic. I mean, I made it through first communion, but that was kinda it." I admitted sheepishly to these two beautiful men who prayed so devoutly in the Cathedral this morning. "So, yes, I like my name, but I feel a bit of a fraud about it too, livin' in Southie and all." Connor just laughed; his laugh was free and easy and wild. Murphy grunted, pushing his empty plate away and lit a cigarette, smiling at me.

"Ye're fine, m'girl. We like ye jus' de way ye are. 'Sides, it seems we only call ye Lass an'girl anyway. And we'll keep ye safe in Southie regardless of yer accent, _a shearc_." (My love). I looked across the table at Murphy, seeing he was deadly serious about this statement. I turned my head automatically to Connor on my left; I could see the same resolve in his eyes as well though a ghost of smile remained on his mouth. I nodded, accepting the promise. The streets of Boston weren't safe anymore and I was grateful for these two new…..friends?

"Aye," Connor agreed, "And we can work on the church bit, dere's always time fer dat." He finished the last two bites of bacon, wiped his mouth and asked, "What would ye like to do dis fine Saturday, Lass?" I groaned, knowing I had loads of laundry to do and chores around my apartment, plus my head was still not recovered from last night. The boys looked fit for anything, both chipper and full of energy.

"A nap?" I asked wistfully, even though it was a beautiful day outside. "And then, I do have chores at home today." I said regretfully. I thought about it for a moment, not wanting them to leave me. I brightened, "Do you like movies? I have lots of movies at my place. I could take a nap and you boys could hang around my apartment today if you want." I paused, adding an even bigger dangle, "I have a washer and dryer."

"Ye do?" Connor's face lit. Not having to go to the laundromat was a luxury in South Boston, one paid for with my decent salary at the hospital. He turned to Murphy with decision, "I'll take her back t'her flat and tuck her in if ye'll go get our laundry. De loft really tisn't fit for the lass to be dere as i'tis."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Connor! Why can't ye do dat ye fuckwit, and _I'll_ take de lass to her flat?" Murphy challenged a bit shrilly for my still-sensitive head.

"Lord's fuckin' name!" Connor growled quietly, holding his left index finger out, pointed in a scold at his brother's nose. "Just shut it an' do as I ask, Murph."

"Mother Mary, full of grace." Murphy mumbled, crossing himself automatically. The brothers locked eyes, silently communicating. Then Connor grumbled something in what sounded like Russian, and his brother's eyes fell, seemingly in agreement.

"Aye." Murphy said. "What's yer address m'girl? I'll be over in about an hour."


	13. Chapter 13

When Connor and I stepped out of the diner into the sunlight of a gorgeous afternoon, he automatically lit a cigarette. He flipped his Zippo closed with his left hand and pocketed it. I noticed him scanning the street carefully, head swiveling. I smiled, surprised at myself. I had been alone so long, or only out with my girl friends, it was nice to feel totally safe for once. Though on second thought, I wondered if I should worry for my heart. Connor was so beautiful standing there with the sun glinting in his hair that I felt my heart squeeze.

"What are you thinking?" I asked to cover my twinge of concern. Connor turned to look at me, doing that looming thing he did. Instead of feeling scared, I felt secure. It was odd how he only did that when it was just the two of us. He was much more relaxed and free when Murphy was around. I wondered why.

"Watchin,' Lass." He exhaled smoke. "It might be a Saturday afternoon, but tis still Southie." He grimaced. "Lead on, den. I'll walk ye home." He tucked my left hand into the crook of his arm as I turned to walk down the street. We had covered several blocks when Connor spoke, "Ye don't talk much fer a lass." I could hear the question in his statement. I giggled a little.

"No, I don't, Connor. I spend twelve hours a day talking at work." I glanced up at him. "What? It's okay, I'm pretty happy right now. It's when I'm unhappy that you'll get an earful." I warned jokingly, poking him in the ribs. "Why are you so worried?"

"What'd'ye mean, Lass?" He squeezed my arm against his rib cage and I came with it, pressing against him naturally.

"I don't know, you just seem…" I trailed off, trying to put my finger on his body language. "Mmm, hyperalert?" He made some sort of Gaelic sound of assent.

"I dinna like to be wit'out Murph." He muttered.

"Why's that?"

He looked at me in surprise, "Because I never have been. It's always been de two o'us. Dere's safety in numbers, aye?" I looked at him curiously.

"Then why did you send him away? I could have gone with you back to the loft to get the laundry." He looked down at me sideways through his lashes. He hesitated. I couldn't tell whether he was debating on telling me the truth or anything at all. I stubbornly kept my mouth shut, waiting him out.

"Well," He finally admitted, "I thought it would be nice to spend some time wit' jus de two of us." My mouth fell open in surprise.

"You did?" I blurted.

"Aye." He said sheepishly. I smiled up at him.

"It's fine Connor, I like spending time with you, but I don't want you to send Murphy away if it's going to make you uncomfortable. I'll pay attention to you as much as you want, even if the three of us are together." I squeezed his arm.

"Dat'll work, Lass, but dat's not why I wanted ye to meself." I looked up at him questioningly. The silence stretched as he made me wait for it. I wondered whether he would answer seriously or with a tease. I made a rolling motion with my finger. Finally, he answered, "I don't mind sharin' wit'Murph, it's what we do. But, I was also wonderin' if he isn't pushin' ye a wee bit hard? I dinna want ye scairt of us." My heart gave that odd little squeeze again as I looked up at him. The man had the face of a fallen angel, the body of a Greek god, and the sweetest disposition of any man I had met in recent memory. And, his brother was no slouch in comparison. I laughed out loud.

"Connor," I giggled. "You're both pushing a wee bit hard, but I like it just fine. I'll tell you when I'm not okay. Deal?" He nodded in agreement and we lapsed into a comfortable silence as he walked me home. It was one of the most pleasant strolls I had experienced in a long time.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ye need better locks, Lass." Connor said, frowning at the door as I let us in.

I laughed, "So do you Connor, there's barely a door handle on your loft! At least I have two deadbolts." He automatically toed off his boots, leaving them scattered by the door.

"Aye, we don't even bother t'lock it most of de time." He looked around momentarily, taking in my simple apartment, sofa and TV, living room open to the kitchen.

"It's nice, Lass." I moved into my bedroom, gathering up my work clothes and heading into the bathroom to start the first load of laundry. Connor leaned nonchalantly in the doorway, watching me. "A king-sized bed, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. I felt myself blush, not only at the implied innuendo, but at the conspicuous consumption in comparison to their living arrangements.

"It's a hand-me-down from my parents. It's a tempur-pedic and they didn't like it." I mumbled, tucking laundry into the machine. "And it fit with a bit of room to spare here, so I got it instead of my brother."

"Aye?" He commented noncommittally, but left that alone for a minute, shifting to his other leg to lean on the doorjamb. "What would ye like us t'do today, while ye nap?" He asked, changing the subject.

I looked up in surprise. "Watch movies? I have hundreds of movies. And not just chick-flicks!" I laughed.

"I meant what chores d'ye need done dat'er quiet. We'd like to take ye out tonight." I looked at him hesitantly. "What, Lass?"

"Well, I was thinking of staying in; maybe cooking you two dinner." I could see this was a good suggestion when his face lit from within with a stunning smile, his blue eyes crinkling in delight. I nodded. "I'll give you a list of ingredients and there is money in my purse on the table. Don't forget to buy beer for you and Murph. I don't have any here." Finishing with the washer, I moved back towards my bedroom, but Connor didn't move. I stopped just before him, looking up questioningly.

"Lass, come'ere." He threaded his fingers through my hair, tilting my head for a kiss. He spun me slowly towards the bed, until my knees hit the edge. He kissed me until I couldn't breathe; finally, he lifted his face from mine, looking into my eyes. He let me go and jerked the covers down. "Drop my jeans and crawl in, Lass, ye need to sleep a bit, aye?"

"Your jeans? A little forward there, don't you think, Connor?" I joked, laughing to cover my nervousness.

"Nay, I meant _my_ jeans that _you_ have on, ye wee hussy!" Connor cracked up. Chastened, I obediently did as he asked, climbing into my bed in Murphy's T-shirt and my panties. I could feel Connor's eyes on my ass, but he said nothing and didn't touch. "Schooch into the center," He commanded. He tucked me in and lay down on my left side. It felt odd having a man on my left for a moment, but I relaxed when he spoke, nuzzling my neck and smoothing my hair away from my face.

"What we're ye t'inkin' of makin' us for dinner?" Connor sounded different. Pleased? Happy? Flattered? I couldn't tell from his voice because I couldn't see his face as he kissed my neck. His voice sounded like warm honey. I groaned, rolling my head away to give him better access. My thoughts scattered when he bit my earlobe, making me moan again.

"Ye keep makin' sounds like dat and ye won't be gettin' any sleep, _cailín álainn_." (Beautiful girl.). He lifted his head.

"Mmmm," I made a sound of discontent when he stopped making love to my neck, slowly coming back to myself. "Um, pasta and salad?"

"Aye? And what do ye need to make dat?" I rattled off a list of ingredients.

"Sounds wonderful." He said. "Roll away from me, Lass, let me hold ye while ye sleep." I curled away from him, nestling my bottom into his groin. He gave a grunt at that and swatted lightly at my hip. "Knock it off! Ye need to sleep."

"Oooh," I said, smiling. "Do that again, I like it."

"What? Smackin' yer bum!?" He asked in shock.

"Mmm, yeah, it's nice." I giggled. In fact, I did like it a bit, even if I was joking with him.

"Why, ye dirty little girl!" Connor said with awe. "I like ye even better now." He chuckled. "Sleep, aye?"

"Mmm, 'k." I snuggled down on my bed, wrapped in Connor's arms. With the last bit of coherence I had, I mumbled, "No smokin' in the house, aye? Go out on the balcony."


	15. Chapter 15

**So, some BDS references, some BDS2, and some TWD. You'll find'em.**

I woke up several hours later to warm afternoon sunlight slanting through my room and the curtains billowing from a breeze blowing in from the balcony. I stretched luxuriously, finally feeling better, inhaling the summer smells wafting through the room. I was dead center in the bed with dents on the pillows on either side of my head. I smiled. So, the boys had napped too. I could also smell their light male scent clinging to my sheets. It smelled wonderful. TV noises drifted through the cracked door, but all else was quiet in the room.

I slipped on a pair of shorts and slouched into the bathroom to find…. All my laundry neatly folded on top of the dryer. I opened the washer to find a load of wet sheets—theirs, not mine-and in the dryer was a load of dry Levi's. My mouth fell open in shock. I couldn't believe it. Had they finished all the laundry or was there more?

I found the boys comfortably sprawled on my couch, wearing only jeans and belts, bare feet on the coffee table. They were both drinking Murphy's Irish Stout from the can and watching The Dirty Dozen. As I stepped into the doorway, both their heads turned to look over the sofa at me. I smiled, holding up their folded jeans, "Where's the rest of the dirty laundry boys?" Murphy smirked, looking at his brother. Connor just pointed towards the front door where a giant bulging military surplus pack leaned against the wall. My face fell and I could feel my shoulders slump.

"Fuck, boys. We're gonna be doing laundry until Monday!" Connor fell out. Murphy just smirked again.

"Christ, de lass has a mouth on her!" Connor choked. "Lord's fucking name! So just shut it Murph!" He pointed his finger at his brother, then shooed me towards the front door with a chin motion, "Go look in de bag." He turned back to the movie, taking a swig of beer.

I walked towards the door, saying casually, "I got my mouth, as you call it, from hanging out with fireman, policemen, and paramedics. Everyone in our kind of job swears. We're kinda like longshoremen." I cautiously looked into the bag. It was stacked almost three-quarters of the way full with clean, folded laundry.

"You guys did all this here?" I squeaked. They both nodded solemnly. I dropped their clean jeans in on top of the other clothes and wandered back to the sofa. "How long was I asleep?" I settled automatically between the boys on the couch as they shifted to make room. Their bare chests made my mouth water.

Connor sidled closer, breathing in my ear, "'Bout four hours. Ye sleep like de dead." He wrapped his right arm around me.

"Speak for yourself, Connor!" I laughed. Murphy leaned in from my right, wrapping his fingers around mine.

"Aye, m'girl. We got lots done" Murph said. "Shoppin', laundry, dustin', moppin.' Connor was a right task master." I looked around the apartment. It was spotless. I couldn't imagine these two men doing household chores after seeing the state of their loft. Or completing anything without a scuffle, let alone quietly; I _must_ have slept like the dead.

Connor used his left index finger to nudge my chin towards him. I looked into his beautiful blue eyes as he said, "All dat's left is a bit o' sweepin' up in yer room. Did ye want to change the sheets on yer bed today?"

"Yes." I whispered. "Thank you!" I leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. He tried to pull me into a deeper kiss, but I evaded his grasping hand. "But why did you do this? You didn't need to. I could have done it myself."

Connor just smiled as Murphy answered from behind my head, "We want ye t'spend de day wit' us tomorrow. So, we figured if we did yer chores while ye slept off yer hangover dat we give t'ye, ye might be a bit more amendable to gettin' up early t'go t'Mass wit us." I was looking into Murphy's eyes when he finished this line of thought. Not just church, but Mass? Okay, buster, I thought.

I smiled wickedly. "Mass, huh? I suppose that would require me to wear a dress, hmm?"

Murphy's eyes darkened to almost navy, but he didn't say anything except to breathe "Aye." He just continued to stare. I thought I could see the fantasy playing out in his eyes, but I might have been projecting.

"Now that ye've made me brudder dumb as a post-not th'I'm sayin' dat's a bad t'ing, fer once!—But, I've a wee present for ye," Connor drew my attention back in the other direction, though I could feel Murphy stiffen at his brother's teasing. "Close yer eyes, Lass, an'hold out yer hand." Obediently I held up my left hand, as my right was still locked in Murphy's. I felt a cool metal object drop into my palm and automatically closed my fingers around it. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a shiny new brass key.

"A key, Connor? This can't be to your loft?" I asked in surprise, with a bit of shake in my voice if I'm honest. "Hell, I could breathe on the door and it would fall in!" I joked, trying to cover my excitement.

"Nay, Lass, it's a key to _yer_ door. It's a new Schlage to replace dat piece of shite de fuckin' landlords installed here." I turned the key over in my hand.

"Wow! _Thank_ you, Connor. I don't think I have ever received such a thoughtful gift," I said with genuine joy at the idea behind what they had done.

"Does dat rate a kiss den Lass?"

"Aye," I said, mimicking his accent. I leaned forward again pressing my lips to his. Immediately he deepened the kiss, pulling me closer with the arm around my shoulders. His tongue tangled with mine, slanting his lips for a bruising kiss. I could feel him pour himself into me, the kiss was so hot. I squirmed a bit, heat pooling between my legs at his passion. I felt an insistent tug on the fingers of my right hand.

"Connor," Murphy whined. "Let her go!" Connor kissed me for another ten seconds at least, finally releasing my lips reluctantly. He sighed.

"Best pay attention to me brudder now, Lass." I stared at Connor for a moment longer, but obediently turned back to Murphy.

"Aye, Murph? You'll want a kiss to match, I suppose?" I smiled at him.

"Eventually," he said, smiling. "But first, close yer eyes and hold out yer hand." Really? What did they have up their sleeves now? The only way to find out was to comply, so that's what I did. Again, I felt a cool metal object fall into my left hand. I opened my eyes to see a shiny new silver key.

"What? _This_ one is to your loft?" I asked stupidly. This key looked different. I looked up at Murphy questioning.

"Nay, girl," Murphy smirked. "It's a Yale key to the new lock on _yer_ door." He echoed his brother's earlier words. "So ye have _two_ new locks on yer door. We wanted t'be sure dere wouldn't be any way for _any_ motherfuckers to get in here, unless ye let'em in." He was dead serious when he said this last bit. They were certainly taking my safety to heart. I couldn't resist though, so I smiled at him wickedly, my brain nearly recovered from Connor's shock to my system. I was getting used to them.

"Aye, an' de ye consider ye an' yer brudder motherfuckers?" I asked, doing my best at an Irish accent. They both laughed out loud.

"Nay, girl. We're de good guys. Dat's why ye don't have to let us in. We'll do it ourselves if ye'll let us keep de copies of de keys we made fer us. Ye should let us, if only t'ensure clean laundry at de loft. Have some mercy on two poor bachelors," Murphy chuckled as Connor stiffened. My breath hitched as I took the idea that the brothers I had just met yesterday wanted keys to my apartment. I wasn't sure how I felt about giving up keys to my place to anyone. There must have been some hesitation on my face because Connor exploded, releasing my shoulder to lean over me, though his right hand didn't release me entirely. That hand just trailed down to lightly touch my forearm.

"God-fuckin-damnit, Murph! How many times have I fuckin' warned ye?" Murphy just made some sort of Gaelic grunt, not looking the least bit repentant. In fact, when I looked at him, he was scowling back at his brother. I gave an experimental tug on my right hand, but Murphy ignored the movement, holding tight.

I took a deep breath. "Hush, Connor. Leave him be." I said, swiveling my head back to look at him, jiggling his thigh with the hand holding my keys to get his attention. When he finally left off glaring at Murphy to look at me, I shook my head slightly then glanced down. I stared at my left hand sitting so naturally on Connor's leg. Roll with it, girl, I commanded myself. But, I could feel my heart pounding. "It'll be okay, just give me a minute to process this." I turned my left hand over and looked down at the twin keys, one brass and one silvery; not the same, but mirrors of each other.

I was a good judge of character after years in the nursing field. It was a rare day when someone could completely snooker me. I liked these guys. I wasn't sure where it was going. I thought Connor seemed a bit more interested in going slow and Murphy was definitely interested in pushing things. They were both jokesters, but sweet with it. Instead of letting them fight, I thought I would pay them back a bit with my own teasing.

"Does this mean we're going steady?" I asked them, jokingly, first looking at Murphy and then turning my head to look at Connor with a raised eyebrow. Instead of taking the bait, Connor looked past me at Murphy, sharing that weird silent communication they had. My head yo-yoed back and forth between the two; I was going to get whiplash if I wasn't careful.

"Aye, girl, if dat's what ye want t'call it." Murphy answered flatly.

I heard Connor hiss "_Einfach_" (slow) behind me, but Murphy was tugging me towards him for a searing kiss. I wound my left hand into the short hair at Murphy's neck, groaning against his lips as Connor massaged my neck. Finally, Murphy broke the kiss, shifting uncomfortably in his jeans. I could feel Connor as he mirrored the movement behind me. I took a very deep breath. Exhaling, I struggled to settle my thoughts.

"So, um," I stuttered. "Which one of you am I going steady with?"

"Me!" Murphy smiled at me.

"Nay, Lass," Connor said, tugging on my left hand. "Ye want me more. I'm the one dat found ye!"

"What about datin' de both'o us?" Murphy gave a winning smile. "We share well." This comment sat better with me. I was beginning to see them as two halves to one whole.

"Can you 'go steady' with two men at the same time? Isn't bigamy a mortal sin?" I asked, semi-seriously to Connor.

"Aye, dat's why we're goin' t'confession before Mass." Connor grimaced a bit, but his lips turned up eventually in irrepressible good humor.

I looked at the clock over the TV. I had known the MacManus brothers for exactly 20 hours. Things were moving very fast. I took another deep breath and told myself to go along for the ride.


	16. Chapter 16

I was kneading homemade pasta dough at the kitchen counter when Connor came to get another beer.

"What are ye doin' dere, Lass?"

"Making pasta, Connor, what does it look like?" I laughed. He leaned a hip on the counter, gazing with fascination as I turned and pushed the dough against the cutting board.

"Huh, I don't t'ink we've ever had fresh pasta made fer us before. How do ye do dat?"

"It's easy, sweetheart. Flour, eggs, oil, and water. That's it. _Voila_!" I said with a flourish, turning to find the cling wrap so the pasta could rest. I bit my lip as I put the dough in the refrigerator, wondering if I should really ask. But, I wanted to know. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I told myself resolutely.

"Um, Connor?"

"Aye, Lass?

"How many languages do you and Murph speak?" I turned to look at him, leaning back against the counter and cracking my own beer.

He smirked a bit. "Seven."

"Seven?" I squeaked, amazed.

"Aye. Our mother insisted. We can read and write in most of dem too." He said proudly.

"Then what the fuck are you doing working in a meat packing plant? You should be working on an interpretation line." I sputtered. Connor shrugged.

"An' what's an interpretation line den, darlin'? We like workin' wit our hands." Involuntarily, I looked down at his beautiful hands. I sighed. He was right; they should work with their hands. I couldn't see them sitting in some office with a head set on, though we could desperately use their skills when we didn't have an interpreter at work.

"An interpretation line is when you are a third party helping to….ah, never mind." I said, losing my train of thought as I stared at his hands. Connor was watching my eyes closely as he moved towards me.

"Aye?" He murmured. "Ye like my hands, do ye?" I held absolutely still as his left hand reached out to stroke my cheek, the calluses on his fingertips lightly abrading my skin. I could feel my breath hitch and my heart rate speed up. He stroked his fingers down my neck to rub along my collar bone. I closed my eyes and moaned.

"I have to make the sauce, Connor. You have to stop." I said reluctantly.

"Aye, Lass." He fingers instantly stopped what they were doing, moving around the back of my neck to pull me forward. I was surprised when he only kissed my forehead.


	17. Chapter 17

I was stirring red sauce in the pot when Murphy came into the kitchen. He moved behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaned his head on my right shoulder. I shivered involuntarily when he turned his head to suck on my earlobe.

"Whatcha makin' us dere, girl," He breathed into my ear.

"Red sauce," I managed to reply.

"Aye, it smells like Heaven." His hands wandered over my stomach. I was starting to lose track of my own thoughts. I shook myself mentally. I was on a mission here. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I repeated to myself. I figured I would ask the more forthcoming twin about what they talked about in other languages. Connor was very good about avoiding answers, though when he told me something, he seemed always to be truthful. Murphy, like his tattoo, was more about justice. I might even get a straight answer out of him.

"Um, Murph?"

"Aye, _a shearc_. (My love)" Again, it sounded like he said a-hark.

"You and Connor speak seven languages." I hesitated.

"Aye." He confirmed.

"So, um, what do you talk about?" I asked diffidently. I could feel him tense a bit behind me. Though I was glad I wasn't looking at him while I pursued this line of thought, I was glad I could feel him.

"Everyt'ing and nothin' girl." He said carefully.

"Right, Murph." I said sarcastically.

"No really." He gripped my hips a bit tighter as I continued to studiously stir the pot of sauce. Though The Dirty Dozen was reaching the final crescendo, Connor yelled from the couch, "_Einfach_!" (Slow) Murphy stiffened.

"Murph, I can tell you talk about me. Hell, sometimes you talk _to_ me, but I can't understand you." I said softly.

"We'll tell you some day, Lass." He said quietly into my hair. "For now, we'll go slow, aye? Let ye get used to us." He gently released me, going to get another beer from the refrigerator, returning to the couch to leave me cooking and frustrated.


	18. Chapter 18

**Take a moment to post a review if you would? I would like feedback about the story so far...**

The sky was just beginning to lighten when I opened my eyes. I could hear the twittering and scratching of early bird movement, so morning must be coming. I lay on my back, sandwiched between two heavy male bodies lying on top of the covers, me beneath. There was a gentle, yet caste grip on my left breast and a hand wedged between my thighs, one from each man. I turned my head to the left and there was Connor, to my right Murphy. Both were perfectly curved around me, each trapping one of my legs with theirs.

They had come to bed with me the night before after we watched another movie. I hadn't wanted them to leave and they saw no point in going back to their loft late. I thought it might be awkward sleeping with them but it was actually quite natural. I was slowly getting used to having them both near me though the current situation was fairly intolerable.

I squirmed, trying to wiggle free. I was roasting. "Boys?" I whispered, squirming some more. Nothing. Not even a change in their breathing pattern.

"Um, hey, guys?" I squirmed some more. Still nothing. My arms were trapped under the covers and I started to panic.

"Connor! Murphy!" I shouted, wiggling for all I was worth.

"Wha?" Connor's grumbled, burrowing into my neck and automatically squeezing down on my breast in attempt to make me be still. In contrast, Murphy leapt from the bed, head swiveling to survey the room for a threat. I pushed the covers back with my right hand as Murphy came to help. I was taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself from the momentary claustrophobic panic. He pulled me to my feet, gently pushing the hair back from my face and holding me with his left arm.

"_A chuisle_ (my pulse), what tis it, now? I've got ye, _a chroí_ (my heart). Tell me what it is. Why're ye scairt den, girl?" I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his smell, relaxing slowly.

"What did you call me, Murph?"

"Huh?"

"You called me something in Gaelic."

"Oh, um. I's just….hmmm. Nothing sweetheart." Murphy held me close, bending his head to nuzzle at the side of my neck. "What were ye afraid of den? Did ye have a wee nightmare?" He asked.

"No." I laughed, reaching up to hold the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. "I woke up trapped under the covers by the two of you." He kissed my neck, running his tongue up to my ear and back down. "I'm okay now," I sighed.

"Aye, I'm glad. Ye like dat, aye?" He asked as I shivered.

"Mmm-hmm." I moaned. He sucked on my neck at the juncture of my shoulder and I felt my knees go weak.

"An dis? Ye like dis?"

"Yes," I sighed. He sucked harder. I could feel the blood rushing to the surface of my skin in what would undoubtedly be a hickey. I flinched away.

"Murph!" I laughed. "You can't do that to me! It's summer and I wear scrubs to work. Everyone will know!" He lifted his head.

"Aye, girl. Dat's de point. We want everyone t'know." He spoke quietly to me in the semi-dark. He was using his dead serious voice. I had no answer to this, too afraid of what this meant. When Murphy spoke, things always seemed to be going far too fast with this three-way, completely unorthodox…relationship? I pulled back a bit in Murphy's arms, beginning to panic again.

_ "Fratello, andare piano con lei!" _(Brother, go slow with her). "What de fuck, Murph?" Connor spoke from the bed urgently. I turned my head to look at him lying in my king sized bed. He seemed to be staring back at me.

_ "Ya ne khochu, chtoby!_" (I don't want to). Murphy retorted impatiently in a different language. Russian I wondered? "_Ona budet khorosho_." (She'll be fine).

_ "Non scopare questo in su_, Murph!" (Do not fuck this up!) Connor retorted. He sounded completely disgusted.

"_Poshel na khuy!_" (Fuck you!) Murphy's voice rose, nearly yelling at his brother, fully facing him now. I was left forgotten at his side. I felt like a ping-pong ball, my neck swiveling to follow this bizarre conversation in the barely lit room. The only part of it I could understand was the inflection in their voices and their body language. They continued to argue back and forth, in what sounded like three or four different languages. Connor stood up on the other side of the bed now, shouting at Murphy while he pulled on his jeans. Whatever he said, Murphy lit up. I could feel the heat pouring off his body. I felt him as he clenched his fists, body set to launch at his brother.

I could see a full fledged scuffle breaking out and I moved to forestall it before it escalated further. I stepped in front of Murphy and crossed my arms over my chest. He immediately focused on me, Connor falling silent as well.

"Murph, put your fuckin' pants on and go have a cigarette on the balcony." I ordered in my best nurse's voice. "I won't have you two arguing and fighting in my apartment!" He looked as if he was ready to argue back with me. But I stopped him with a finger to his chest. "Go on, go cool off." Turning to his brother, I continued, "Any _you_, Connor. Go make some fuckin' coffee. Give us all some space, hmm?"

"Aye, girl, whatever ye want." Murphy grumbled, reaching for his Levi's. Hoping World War III wouldn't break out, I turned my back on the both of them and went to the bathroom. I managed to not slam the door, but I certainly closed it forcefully. And locked it. I let my head drop back against the door, shaking it ruefully. What was I going to do with them?


	19. Chapter 19

**So I got some feedback about the uneven chapter lengths. I'll try to even them out. I am also worried that this is dragging, but I like the slow burn between these three. And, to be honest, I really don't have any control over what blurts out on the page. It's like a ghost writer in my head spewing this amazing (I think) story out. So. Bear with me and keep reviewing please.**

When I came back out of the bathroom, both boys were in the kitchen making coffee, apparently in accord. I peeked through the door as they both companionably moved around the kitchen. We were going to have a conversation about the constant bickering at some point, but I figured that could wait. We had Mass to attend. And I had a dress to wear; I smiled wickedly to myself, picking out a dress with buttons all the way down the front.

The sky was beginning to lighten on this early summer Sunday. I could smell the boys' scent in the room. It was different than how my room usually smelled. I liked it. It smelled…. good. Ok, to be honest, it smelled like I needed to have a very different conversation—one with my gynecologist about birth control pills. I hadn't been sexually active in years, ever since I moved to Boston after my one and only boyfriend dumped me. I wondered if I had told the boys about this life changing event on Friday night while drunk on whisky. I had no idea.

But birth control pills were going to be a necessity, if I hoped correctly. I was a bit surprised at myself actually. Contemplating the both of them, it seemed almost normal and a bit intriguing—okay, I was also scared half to death too. But sleeping with them had helped. It was like our dreams had entangled and we were a part of each other; sleeping together had definitely increased my intimacy level. They really were two halves of a whole, I justified to myself. Could I keep them both happy? I wondered at this possibility while I dressed. I had a fairly limited first-hand knowledge, though vast experience as a professional in the nursing field. I felt like I had seen and heard it all. I just had never done it myself.

The dress felt good. It was a bit short for Mass, but I thought it would work. It was a cream colored silk scattered with red tea roses. I added a jaunty red scarf around my neck to cover Murphy's hickey, the brat. I didn't have anything to cover my hair, but what the hell? I was going to Mass with two men who probably wouldn't keep their hands off me if the look on their faces when they saw in me in the dress was any indication.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After church, the boys and I had breakfast in a diner and wandered down to the park. It was another beautiful day and I could feel their desire to be outside. Connor settled my head comfortably in his lap as he leaned against a tree. I was stretched out with Murphy's head companionably resting on my stomach, our bodies forming a rough horseshoe. It was a lazy day.

Connor read to Murphy a bit and then they would talk and forth, stumbling over their sentences. When Connor handed the book to Murphy so could he read aloud, Connor threaded his hands through my hair, waving it out in giant fan over his legs and onto the grass; it was a very pleasant sensation, being lightly groomed. I could hear Murphy's voice first hitch and then trail off. I looked at him to see him staring as Connor played with my hair, his tongue rubbing his lower lip unconsciously.

"What, Murph?" He bit his lip. Instead of speaking, Connor answered instead.

"Wee Murph has a t'ing fer long hair. He's a bit jealous right now." I could hear the smirk in his voice as he teased his brother. I smiled at them, used to their good natured jabs at each other. Murphy, not to be outdone, shook himself free of his trance.

"Aye, and me brudder over dere has a t'ing fer tits. It's why he's sitting where he is, so he can look down yer dress." Involuntarily I looked down at my cleavage but everything was covered appropriately. Instead of rising to the bait, I just laughed and turned back to my book. Though I couldn't understand them, it was enjoyable, listening to their voices. They sounded good. They weren't speaking Gaelic but I could still hear the Irish inflection in their speech. After about an hour of this, though, my curiosity got the better of me.

"What are you two doing?" I asked, setting down my own book. Connor looked down at my face, smiling at me.

"Teachin' ourselves Latin, darlin'." He said matter of factly, running his finger tips over my collarbone.

"You're what?"

"Teachin' ourselves to read Latin," Murphy echoed patiently, chewing on a blade of grass.

"You're kidding me! Latin, to be sure!" I laughed, joggling Murphy's head on my stomach.

"We are, Lass. We've a bit of Latin from Mass, aye? But I want more." Connor explained seriously.

"Connor," I said patiently, "_No one_ reads Latin anymore."

"Aye, well," Connor looked away, seemingly a bit embarrassed. "I want to read a few t'ings. An' Murph's willin' t'help. An'…" he trailed off. I felt my eyebrows go up.

"And you need to teach yourself Latin, because?" I made a rolling motion with my finger looking up at him sideways.

"Weel, ye see, I want to read Marcus Aurelius' Mediations. And maybe some Hannibal." He admitted, then continued in a rush, "It's better, aye? T'read it in the original language ye see. Leaves out de commentary from de translators muckin' it up."

"Aye, Connor is a great one fer de plannin'. It's why he's always makin' me watch Charlie Bronson movies." Murphy dissolved into a fit of giggles. Connor swiped at him half heartedly. I laughed helplessly, looking down at my own book. Good God, I thought, here I am reading a romance novel and the boys are teaching themselves a dead language so Connor could study warfare strategies.

"So, this will be your eighth language then? You speak what? Gaelic, English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Russian already, right?" I ticked off their languages on my fingers.

"Aye." Connor nodded.

"I see. I think it's nice." I smiled and then added with a bit of a frown, "Even if you do talk about me and won't explain what you're saying."

"Murph told ye, we'll explain someday. Patience, Lass."

"Ah, well," I grumbled. "Next and you'll be after reading Greek and then I really won't understand you." I laughed. Murphy turned to me in surprise, rolling the blade of grass he was chewing on from one side of his mouth to the other.

"How did ye know dat, girl?"

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Dat de Greek is next?"

I barked out a laugh of surprise. "I didn't Murph, I was only joking. But if you want to learn Greek, I'm all for it. Connor can whisper Catullus' love poems to me in original Latin and you can read me Saphho's poetry in ancient Greek." I giggled, turning back to my book as they both narrowed their eyes in calculation. "I'll get the gist."


	20. Chapter 20

The sun was beginning to slant toward the horizon when I stretched. It felt wonderful to be outside, in the shade, lying down with two beautiful men. I cautioned myself not to let the sheer amount of attention go to my head.

"Food, Connor." Murphy said, rolling onto his side, his ear against my stomach.

"It's time?" Connor replied, closing the book of Latin grammar.

"Aye, her stomach's growlin' agin. Best feed her, aye?" I felt my face flush in embarrassment. Murphy tossed the latest of many blades of grass away, standing. "An early supper, girl? We have to say our penance tonight. Speakin' fer meself, it's gonna take a while." He touched his rosary automatically and held out a hand to help me up.

"How many did ye get, Murph?" Connor asked, standing and dusting off his jeans.

"Seven decades." Murphy grimaced folding my right hand into his left after he lit a cigarette.

"Seven laddie? Fuck, what have ye been t'inkin'? Ye've not been out of me sight dis week t'get int'any trouble." Connor laughed, wrapping his right arm around my shoulder.

"Aye, well." Murphy trailed off handing his cigarette to Connor. "It was a good weekend. I'm afraid I went into a bit o'detail wit' de priest." He said sheepishly.

"Ye probably burned his ears and fueled his fantasies for a month!" Connor cracked up.

"Aye. How many did ye get den, Connor?" Connor stopped laughing abruptly, looking away, exhaling smoke.

"Ten." He mumbled.

"Ten is it?" Murphy laughed back at his brother. "Did I hear ye say _ten_?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We ended up at my place after dinner and the boys spent the night again. I woke the next morning to Connor kissing my neck.

"Mornin,' Lass." I moved my hand to the right, but Murphy wasn't there. Then I realized I could hear the shower running.

"Mmm, hello, love." I said, stretching to allow him better access. He licked along my collarbone, pulling my sleep shirt out of the way as I wrapped my hand around his neck. I moaned, causing him to crawl onto the bed with me. He pulled me into another one of his searing kisses. I heard Murphy come into the room, but I couldn't spare him any other attention than that of my ears as Connor kissed me senseless. He tasted wonderful. I felt the bed depress on my right side and Murphy's hand brushed hair behind my ear. Connor never missed a beat, just kept his tongue in my mouth as I fumbled my hand onto Murphy's thigh, clutching him closer.

"We've got t'go, Connor." Murphy said restlessly. Connor slowly pulled back, reluctant to break the connection.

"Aye, Lass, we have t'get to church and den t'work." Connor sat up on his knees regretfully. Murphy leaned over me, using his fingers to turn my head towards him.

"We'll see ye tonight, girl?" And then he pulled me into his own deep kiss. I could feel Connor watching us, but wrapped my arms around Murphy's neck without embarrassment. I loved kissing them both and I could feel desire pool inside my body. I was in a near constant state of sexual tension between the two. Murphy pulled back to look at me, caressing my ear.

"Ye'll be careful today?" Murphy asked.

"Yes."

"Promise, Lass?"

"Aye, Connor, I promise." I smiled at him as they turned for the door.

"And will ye maybe wear another dress?" Murphy asked turning back to glance at me.

"Sure, Murph, one just for you." I giggled, stretching. "And I promise not to let any motherfuckers in!" They both cracked up. I laughed too, listening to them push and shove each other good naturedly as they rattled out of the apartment. The last thing I heard was the snap of two locks going home from the outside.


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry, there was just no way I could make this one NOT short...Keep the reviews coming please **

The boys arrived back at my apartment a little after six. I could hear a brief argument between them in the hall, trying to decide whether to knock or to use the keys, no doubt. There was a muttered "Fuck it," and then the sound of turning keys. I smiled to myself. They seemed so concerned about me getting used to them, I thought it was sauce for the gander as they got used to me. I smiled when they came in, turning away from the stove in a deep blue, button fronted, white polka dotted, knee length dress as requested.

"Hi, guys! Dinner's almost ready." Like filings to a magnet, both boys came directly to me in the kitchen as I turned to face them. I smiled to myself. They were so beautiful. Connor's dark blond hair was spiky from running his hands through it and Murphy was looking up at me from under his brows while he chewed on his thumbnail. They both had cigarettes tucked behind their ears. I thought: mirrors.

"Hi, Lass. Ye look amazin' in dat dress." Connor said, nuzzling the right side of my neck. "Aye, me girl, ye look wicked good." Murphy murmured as he leaned to kiss the left side.

"Christ, guys!" I squeaked, pulling away. "I know! Lord's fuckin' name. Mother Mary full of grace. " I said, pushing them away and crossing myself as I wrinkled my nose. "Go take a fuckin' shower. You stink!" They both pulled back, aghast. I bit my lip at their crestfallen expressions.

"I'm sorry, but you do." I laughed helplessly, the strong odor of raw meat in my nostrils. I held my breath and pecked Connor on the cheek. "Go take showers. Dinner will be ready when you're done." I kissed Murphy's cheek. Connor and Murphy stared at each other, communicating without words. Murphy shrugged and headed for my room as Connor went to the refrigerator to crack a beer.


	22. Chapter 22

**OK ya'll, it's gonna get awkward. And fun...**

"What did ye do today?" Connor asked over supper. Murphy looked up, obviously wanting to know the answer too. They were dressed in their uniforms again: black T-shirts, blue jeans, and belts, though they were barefoot as a nod to indoor living, long toes curling against my hard wood floors.

"Lots of things." I said noncommittally.

"Like?" Murphy asked.

"Um, stuff." I replied, studiously keeping my eyes on my stew. I had made rich beef stew swimming in red wine sauce, fresh baked bread, and salad in the hopes of softening them up.

"Uh-huh, what kind of stuff, Lass?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"Just, um, things." I could feel a blush starting.

"T'ings, girl? What kind of _t'ings?_" Murphy queried suspiciously. It was like blood in the water and I could feel the sharks nearing. They were both focused on me, eyes narrowed. I sighed, knowing I had to get this part of the conversation over with. I was professionally competent in this area, but hesitated at the personal nature, especially with two beautiful men. I reached down into my purse, fumbled around a bit, finally laying a pink case of pills on the table in answer. My face felt very hot.

"I got a prescription filled today."

"An' what's dis den, girl?" Murphy poked at the case with one finger, touching it only lightly, as if it might explode. Connor brushed his brother's hand out of the way, picking it up and studying the contents. He tilted the case so Murphy could see. Murphy's only reaction was to lift his eyebrows.

"Aye, den." Connor carefully closed the case and set it down on the table. Murphy took another bite of food, narrowing his eyes at me while Connor cocked his head in inquiry. I could feel that my face was bright red with embarrassment, but pushed on.

"Look, I, uh… I can't start taking them for about another week and a half." I took a deep breath and blurted out, "I get checked every year, because of my job, you see, and I'm clean." I trailed off, looking down, and then mumbled, "And I don't like condoms much." Connor looked at Murphy, raising an eyebrow. Murphy gave a nod of his head to whatever Connor had silently asked him.

"I see, Lass. An' are ye askin' after our sexual history den?" I could see the suppressed mirth on his face as he glanced back at Murphy. "Because, I'll tell ye, Murph's is quite short, while, mine? I could write ye a book." Connor laughed out loud as Murphy pushed his shoulder.

"Nay! Dat's not true, Connor. Yer de one who's always been true. I'm de lady slayer!"

I looked back and forth between my two jokesters. This conversation was not going how I had planned, but at least the tension was broken as they pushed and shoved each other back and forth, snorting and giggling to each other.

"Well, yes." I said firmly to Connor's original question. "I'm assuming you've both had plenty of girls."

"Did she just call us whores, Murph?" Connor continued to joke.

"Nah, but I t'ink it's fair to say she's t'inkin' of fuckin' us." His brother retorted with a wicked grin. "Are ye den, girl?" I bit my lip, giving a quick nod of my head. My ears felt like they were on fire. "See, Connor? We're doin' good."

"Well?" I asked pointedly, firmly damping down my embarrassment. "I think I have a right to know."

Connor turned back to me, suddenly serious, reaching out to tangle his fingers with mine. "Aye, Lass, a few. But we've never had sex without a rubber, love. It'll be a novelty, hmm?"

"Never?" I squeaked, startled.

"Nope," Murphy reiterated. "Never. Our Ma taught us right." Murphy stroked my other arm.

"I see." I took a bite of food and chewed thoughtfully. The ice was broken and I could feel the tone of the conversation settle. "So, birth control is okay then? I mean with the Church and all." I explained further at their blank looks.

"Aye." Connor replied. "De Pope can keep his wee Romish nose tucked up safe in de Vatican wit' dat opinion. Babies need to be planned." Murphy nodded emphatically at that.

"Huh." I thought for a second; may as well go for broke. "And do you want babies some day?"

"Aye," Murphy nodded, "Someday." Connor nodded in agreement.

"I see, so, um…" I wanted more information and thought it best to keep being direct. "Is it always with one girl or do you, uh, date separately too?" I asked as I cleared the table. Connor followed me into the kitchen while Murphy went to the refrigerator for another beer.

"We don't really have a system, per se." Connor said. He leaned against my back while I did the dishes, his hands on my hips, lips trailing up my neck.

"Usually separate, but once or twice wit' the same girl." Murphy said answering more fully as he came to stand beside me, brushing my hair back behind my ear.

"Aye, we're good at sharin'." Connor finished the sentence.

"I can see that." I said. "But, um, is it at the same _time_?" I could feel another tide of heat rush up my cheeks as Connor rumbled out a laugh. I was glad I wasn't looking at them.

"You're jus' full o'questions tonight, Lass. Isn't she Murph?"

"Aye, she is. Is she askin' what I'm t'inkin'?"

"I t'ink so. Are ye, Lass? T'inking about de t'ree of us all together?" Connor asked softly, some sort emotion in his voice that I couldn't identify readily. I took a deep breath and turned in his arms. I held Murphy's hand tightly, trying to hold onto my courage.

"Look," I said seriously. "I swear. You know my history, or lack thereof." I looked at Connor's chest for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. "I haven't known you long, but I can't imagine one without the other." I admitted quietly. "I think it, um, might be weird if it _wasn't_ the two of you?" I looked between the two brothers hopefully.

Connor glanced at his brother. I couldn't tell if they were deciding on some new form of teasing torture or if they were contemplating both of them in bed with me. Some sort of decision was made because Connor turned back to me, lifting my chin with his fingers so he could kiss me. He spun me away from the counter, lips locked with mine, allowing Murphy to link his arms around me from behind.

"If ye haven't figured it out yet, Lass, ye can have anyt'ing ye want from us." Connor whispered softly in a rare burst of pure honesty. Then he slanted his lips across mine in a passionate kiss as Murphy kissed and licked and bit my neck.


	23. Chapter 23

**Alright. It's on now. Light SMUT warning here...please review and tell me what you think...**

**Alabaster is for Crissy...**

**Jamey Johnson - In Color**

And if it looks like we were scared to death  
Like a couple of kids just tryin' to save each other  
You should've seen it in color

A pictures worth a thousand words  
But you can't see what those shades of gray keep covered  
You should have seen it in color

With the last of my coherence, I whispered. "We can't yet. It'll be three weeks or so until it's safe…." Connor had his left hand wrapped in my hair, kissing me while Murphy held my hips and nipped along my neck.

"Dere's always rubbers, Lass." Connor offered. I wrinkled my nose.

"There's always other things we can do in the mean time." I retorted.

"Aye, de girl has a point." Murphy chimed in from behind me, his hands anchored firmly on my hips. "It could be fun."

Connor stepped back nodding. "Aye, dere is. Are ye ready den? Ye said ye needed time de other mornin'. We don't want to rush ye, Lass." I took a shaky breath, hoping for the courage to do this.

"Yes." I said as firmly as possible, reaching for Connor's belt with one hand to pull him towards me as I reached behind me to run my hand through Murphy's hair. I turned my head to kiss Murphy as his brothers hips crashed into mine. Connor automatically bent his head to kiss my exposed neck, running his hands up my body, unbuttoning my dress to lightly rub the underside of my breasts. I moved my hand to stroke Connor through his jeans in response.

"Put yer hands on her tits, brudder." Murphy whispered against my lips. I turned my head to look at Connor, staring at him as he pushed the edges of my dress away. I felt my knees go weak between the physical sensation of Connor's rough fingertips and the look of absorption on Murphy's face as he watched him too. I lifted my right arm again to wrap around Murphy's neck behind me, holding on, leaning into him. I could feel his hardness pushing against my ass and I wiggled accordingly, making him moan in my ear.

"Take off yer dress, Lass. We want to see ye." Connor growled and released me so I could comply.

"Tit for tat, Connor." I said. "Lose the shirts." Both brothers complied. They were beautiful. I could feel my hands begin to shake in anticipation and fear as I shrugged my dress free to pool around my ankles. "Connor? Murph?" I asked plaintively, needing to touch them for courage. I stroked the smooth soft skin of Connor's chest and wrapped my other arm around Murphy's neck.

"Aye, Lass, we're here." Connor murmured, bending his head to kiss me. Murphy wrapped his left arm around me, cupping a breast and rubbing my nipple through the silk of my bra. I could feel the warm skin of his chest rub pleasantly against my bare back. Connor made some incoherent sound in his throat when he lifted his head, watching Murphy. In response, there was a brief tightening of my bra strap, a faint click, and then my bra was loose. I shrugged that off too and stood still, shaking only a little, letting the boys look at me for the first time.

Connor took a step back as he pulled the silk bra from my body, sharing a smirk with Murphy once my breasts were exposed to their view. In contrast to the expression on his face, Connor reached out hesitatingly to lightly touch first one erect pale pink nipple and then the other, using only his rough fingertips to touch me. I could see a fine tremor as his hands shook. I bit my lip and moaned when the hand with _veritas_ curled around my breast.

"_Sa peau est comme l'albâtre_." (Her skin is like alabaster). Connor murmured. Murphy wrapped his left arm around me again, watching his brother stroke me. His other hand drifted down my stomach, to slide inside my panties to stroke along my soaked slit. When he twitched a finger against my clit, I moaned into Connor's mouth.

Connor angled his head to kiss me thoroughly. His tongue tangled with mine, his left hand wrapped in my hair, controlling the kiss and his right matching Murphy's rhythm rubbing my nipple. With two sets of hands stroking me, all I could do was hold on to them both to keep from falling. I felt drugged with desire when Connor finally lifted his head to look in my eyes.

_"_Are ye okay, Lass?"

I nodded and moaned, "More." Connor glanced over my shoulder at Murphy asking another silent question. Whatever the answer was, Connor picked me up as Murphy's hands withdrew from my body. I linked my hands behind his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. He kissed me as Murphy led the way into the bedroom and onto the bed.


	24. Chapter 24

**SMUT warning. Skip this chapter if you don't like that kind of thing. Having never read 50 Shades, I was told this is a whole 'nuther level of nitroglycerin. Please review! **

**This one is for Kelly...**

**Steven Earle – The Galway Girl**

Well, I took a stroll on the old long walk  
Of a day -i-ay-i-ay I met a little girl and we stopped to talk  
Of a fine soft day -i-ay-i-ay And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do  
'cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue  
And I knew right then I'd be takin' a whirl  
'round the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl

Connor laid me on the bed as Murphy lay down at my side. I exchanged Connor's lips for Murphy's as he continued his brother's slow, drugging assault on my mouth. I couldn't help but moan when Connor pulled my left nipple into his mouth, sucking it as Murphy copied the rhythm on the right with his thumb and forefinger. My hands wound their way into Connor's hair, clutching him to me. He switched sides, making me buck against his thighs when he lightly bit down on my hardened nipple. Murphy automatically moved to cup around my breast, pushing my nipple harder into his brother's mouth when I moaned.

Connor dropped lower, tonguing down my stomach as his hands drifted down to my thighs, pulling my panties off as he moved lower. He pushed my knees apart as he moved between them, lightly touching me.

"Soaked, isn't she?" Murphy asked. "I kin smell her scent on my fingers." Connor brought the hand he had been touching me with to his mouth, sucking on his index finger.

"Aye," he chuckled. "_Sent comme le ciel._" (It smells like Heaven). I faltered a little when Connor opened me fully to his view, tensing my thighs.

"Relax, Lass, open fer me." He bent his head, licking me from bottom to top and I shivered in Murphy's arms.

"_Detendre_." (Relax) Murphy whispered against my lips. Murphy turned his head to watch as he nibbled his way down my chin, across my collarbone and to my breasts.

"_Mon Dieu_. _Elle est parfait_." (My God. She is perfect). Connor murmured from between my thighs.

"_Je n'ai pas jamis douté_." (I had no doubt). Murphy said, rolling a nipple with his tongue.

"I taste like an ice cream parfait?" I asked a bit hysterically. "I'm just gonna start making shit up, if you keep sayin' things I can't understand." I laughed, jiggling Connor's head. Murphy moved his lips back to mine, rubbing my nipple with his calloused fingers.

"Aye, Lass, and yer welcome t'make up any damn t'ing ye want." Connor said, his words vibrating against my clit, making me squirm. He rubbed his tongue in counter-clockwise circles and slipped a finger inside me, pressing upwards against my g-spot. I moaned Connor's name and bucked against him, kissing Murphy fiercely.

"_Fairais à nouveau._" (Do that again) Murphy said. "Ye should feel de way she's kissin' me." I was starting to come apart. I needed more.

"Murph," I pulled back from his lips, begging, fumbling with his belt buckle. "Take off your pants and come here." Connor slipped a second finger inside me in response. Murphy stood up, squeezing my nipple. When he was at the head of the bed, he slowly unbuckled his belt. Connor suddenly lifted his head, but I had eyes only for Murphy as he began to push his pants off his hips.

"_Arretez, mon frère._ _Fairais à nouveau_." (Stop, brother. Do that again.)

"What?" Murphy asked.

"Do whatever ye just did again, brudder." Connor repeated in English. Murphy raised a brow, but carefully reset the scene. He squeezed my nipple again, and then unbuckled his belt. This time I noticed it. I automatically clamped down on Connor's fingers in response to the belt. I could feel a tide of red sweep up my chest to burn my cheeks but I didn't look away from Murphy.

"What?"

"Ye should feel her pussy when ye do dat. She clamps down on my fingers like a vice. She likes de belt." Connor said in awe.

"She does, does she?" Murphy smiled wickedly, pushing his jeans down. "We'll have t'see 'bout dat." My eyes flared at how beautiful he was. I begged him to come to me, twisting my torso to reach out to his velvet cock. Murphy climbed on the bed, one hand on the headboard to steady himself. Very gently I stroked one fingertip down the length of him and then encircled him with my hand. He was truly beautiful and very big. I was a little daunted, not having done this in a very long time. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, I told myself as I urged him towards me with a hand on his hip. I stuck the tip of my tongue out to lightly touch the head of his cock, causing him to twitch and flex in my hand. I used my other hand to stroke along his body from shoulder to knee, lightly touching him and raising goosebumps where ever I my fingers trailed.

I slipped his head between my lips and swirled my tongue around, making him moan. Then I took him inch by slow inch, alternately watching his face while I swirled my tongue and then looking sideways at Connor watching us. Murphy's brow furrowed and then his eyes closed for a moment when he hit the back of my throat. He licked his lips with his tongue and then caught his bottom lip between his teeth. I roughly pinched his nipple, making him groan and thrust forward further. With Murphy buried so deeply in my throat, I almost gagged, but stopped myself in time. He set a slow rhythm as he ran his fingers through my hair, gently cupping the back of my head, controlling my movements. My hand came up to cup and stroke his balls as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock before again pulling him fully into my mouth.

"Fuckin' hell, Connor, she's got the mouth of an angel." Murphy managed to choke out, his hips pushing forward, my hair a wild array, spilling between us and down my shoulders. Connor just snorted in response, licking me and watching me as I sucked his brother.

Between touching and sucking Murphy, and the magic Connor was performing between my legs, I could feel the familiar tightening of my lower belly muscles and began to moan around the cock in my mouth. Connor wiggled his fingers just as I pulled back from Murphy to breathe and concentrate. I felt myself let go, rolling waves of pleasure wracking my body as I screamed Connor's name, holding on to Murphy for dear life.

"Look at me, girl." Murphy demanded, his cock inches from my face as I came. "Open yer eyes and look at me." Murphy watched me closely, holding my head still by clamping down on the fingers in my hair. "_Ses yeux se transforment en bleu marine_" (Her eyes change to navy blue), he murmured to his brother. He watched me as the aftershocks from Connor's fingers and tongue shook me. Whatever he had said, I saw Murphy's eyes darken once again to near black, his pupils were so dilated with desire.

"_Elle est magnifique_, _n'est pas_?" (She is stunning, isn't she?) Connor asked from between my thighs.

"Aye," Murphy agreed. "Gorgeous. We need t'make her do dat agin."

"Come here, Murph." I said, pulling him back into my mouth while his brother watched, chin resting on my pelvic bone, his fingers still slowly stroking inside me. I bobbed my head, loving the feel of Murphy sliding between my lips, letting him control the pace with a hand at the back of my head, pulling gently on my hair.

Connor warned urgently, "Hold, brother."

"Can't," Murphy panted. "I'm gonna come, girl." I just gripped him tighter, sucking him down. I applied the lightest bit of pressure directly behind his balls as they contracted, the spasms of his orgasm beginning. Murph threw his head back, groaning with pleasure as he thrust into my mouth. I watched his face as I sucked him, taking him just to the edge of pain, extending his orgasm. When he started hoarsely cursing in several languages and his cock began jerking erratically in my mouth, I released the pressure on his balls and gently rolled them between my fingers, finally letting him spill himself between my lips and down my throat.

"Holy hell," Connor muttered. I continued to suck at Murphy, waiting to see what he liked. Very slowly he pulled away, gently wiping my lip with his thumb.

"Aye, amazin', brudder. I'm not sure what she did, but I've never felt anyt'ing like it before." Murphy said, bending to kiss me thoroughly.

When he lifted his head, he asked, "_Wechsein?_" (Switch?) I looked at Connor who nodded and stood to shed his jeans.

Murphy knelt between my legs and put his hot tongue against my clit as Connor came to kneel in front of me. "Come here, Connor." I smiled wickedly. "It's your turn."

"And yours agin, m'girl. I want Connor to see yer eyes when ye come for me." Murphy was different. He wormed his hands under my ass to tilt my pelvis to his liking, stroking and kneading my sensitized skin. His tongue moved in clock-wise circles and he set a regular rhythm of nips to my sensitive bud, making me jerk against his mouth and moan around Connor's equally beautiful and large cock. Connor was equally different, allowing me to set the pace while he rubbed and pinched my nipples. He alternately watched me suck him, watched his own hands on my breasts, or would turn to watch Murphy between my thighs.

When Murphy slipped a finger inside me, Connor said, "Try tappin'." When Murphy complied, tapping against my g-spot and sucking on my clit at the same time, I had to pull away from Connor. I gripped him tightly, panting.

"Murph," I moaned, begging for release. "Harder, Connor." Connor squeezed down hard on my nipple, sending me over the edge.

"Open yer eyes and look at me, Lassie!" Connor disengaged my hand and bent to kiss me. I opened my eyes to stare into his as he kissed me hard, tongue invading my mouth. He lifted his head, still watching me closely. "Moan for me brudder." He pinched both nipples, rolling and squeezing as I bucked against his brother's mouth, my orgasm rolling into a second and then a third. I was shaking and moaning, shocks rolling through my body. My mind completely fragmented into oblivion and my eyes closed as Connor bent to kiss me again.

When I finally came back to myself, Murphy lifted his head, wiping his face against my thigh, whiskers scratching. He moved up to lie in the cradle of my pelvis, head just even with my breasts as he watched my face.

"I'm sorry, Connor." I said sheepishly as I urged him to kneel again at my head. "I think it could have been a bit dangerous if I'd kept my mouth on you." I slipped his cock between my lips as Murphy watched us closely.

"I dinna mind waitin' when we get to see someth'ing like dat." Connor shared a smirk with his brother. "Will ye try whatever ye did to Murph when ye made him come?" I hummed my assent, bobbing my head, sucking hard. Connor liked it equally well.


	25. Chapter 25

**Let me know what you think after this chapter...Reviews welcome!**

Tuesday morning dawned bright and clear and hot. Neither boy was in bed with me when I woke and I could tell by the light that it was later than normal. I could hear the brothers as they bickered back and forth between them in the kitchen. I couldn't hear any actual words, just the rhythm of their speech. Stretching, I climbed out of bed and padded into the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. I thought maybe it would be awkward seeing them in the bright light of day, but it wasn't; or at least not how I surmised it might be. They continually surprised me.

The boys were showered, dressed, and coffee fueled as they bounced around my kitchen like marbles, shoving and teasing each other. I marveled at how they could be so competitive with each other in some ways and completely in harmony in others. They were making sandwiches for lunch, working in tandem, but their conversation belied a complete accord.

"I saw her first."

"Yeah, well I got her int'me bed first."

"I kissed her first."

"Only because I agreed to it!"

"You _agreed_ to it?" I interjected, but the boys ignored me as I poured a cup of coffee. I shook my head, thinking: at least they're speaking English.

"Ha! Ye dumbshit, ye did! _And_ ye told me how it could work!"

"Fuck you, Connor. I got her to rub me cock first!"

"I did _what_?" I choked.

"Aye, ye did, girl, dat first mornin'." Murphy said absently, barely sparing me a look. He turned back to his brother, "_And_ she sucked me cock first, so dere!"

"Aye, well, I can trump all dat, I got t'taste her first _and_ give her de first orgasm! Top dat Murph!"

"Ye didn't get t'taste her first. I did. I sucked on me fingers when ye carried her into the bedroom." He argued back.

"You did _what_?" I squeaked in embarrassment, I could feel a tide of red sweep up my chest to my face. It was all fine and dandy to see Connor do it in the heat of the moment, but to have them discuss it in the cold light of day was a whole different story.

"I still give her de first orgasm."

"Aye, an' I just laid dere like a rug an' didn't help at'all, is'zat what yer sayin,' Connor?" Murphy had that tone in his voice, indicating strongly that this conversation was going to escalate into a full fledged argument.

"Oh. My. God. Knock it off the two of you" I laughed, turning to walk back to our bedroom to crawl back in bed. "You're like two little puppies, fighting over a bone!" Murphy caught my hand, preventing me from leaving.

"Nah, m'girl. We're not fightin'." He bent his head to kiss me. "We're just…" He trailed off, slanting his lips against mine, threading his hands through my hair, controlling the kiss. I felt Connor come up behind me, wrapping one hand around my waist and bringing the other up to cup a breast. He lightly pinched my nipple through my T-shirt causing me to buck my hips against his brother in front of me and moan into Murphy's mouth. Connor bit down hard on my neck and then sucked, bringing the blood to the surface of my skin. I didn't flinch this time, just reached back with my arm to wrap it around his neck and tangled my fingers in the hair at his nape. Murphy slipped a finger inside my panties to rub against my clit. I was panting with desire at this point. They had ignited some kind of insatiable need inside me with their lovemaking the night before, my body automatically responding to them.

When Murphy lifted his head to glance at the clock, I leaned back against Connor, rubbing myself against the hardness in his pants.

"Can't Lass, we'll be late if we stay." Connor said regretfully.

"Please. This isn't fair." I begged, rolling my hips and rubbing against Murphy's jeans.

"We want inside ye." Murphy murmured, nibbling on the corner of my lip.

"Badly." Connor breathed in my ear, pressing against me from behind.

"Tonight." Murphy licked along my jaw to suck on my earlobe, making me shiver. "And if we leave ye like dis, ye'll have all day to t'ink about maybe lettin' us in." Murphy reluctantly pulled away.

"We know ye dinna like rubbers, Lass, but ye'll maybe t'ink t'ings through, aye?" Connor asked.

Murphy dropped a soft kiss on my lips and turned away to scoop up their lunches. "Ye'll be careful today?" I nodded.

"Okay, den, we'll see ye here tonight." Connor kissed me softly as well and turned to go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

I looked into the mirror above my bathroom sink. There were now two bruises, one on either side of my neck. I realized the boys were leaving their marks on me. Competitive bastards.

My lips were swollen and my panties were wet. They had left me thoroughly frustrated. I thought about what they wanted. I wanted it too, I admitted to myself. Last night was amazing, but, I was unsure about how far and how fast to let them push me. I was slowly getting comfortable with the thought of all three of us in bed together. And I really didn't like condoms. I wanted things to be special the first time we were all together. If we could hold out for another two weeks, I could give the boys something they had never had before: unencumbered sex.


	26. Chapter 26

**Ah, finally the seed of a plot arises…I've been waiting for this. SMUT coming up if I have the guts to post it; not this chapter but the next. Please review! **

I was reading my book at four o'clock when I looked up in surprise at the sound of keys in the door. The brothers had come home well after six yesterday, being usually scheduled for four ten hour days. When the door opened, the first thing I saw was Murphy's face where blood had poured down the left side. Behind him, Connor had a bloody T-shirt wrapped around his right arm and his pants were soaked with drying blood all down the right side. I laid the book aside and went to assess the damage.

"Sit. The both of you." I ordered, noting Connor wasn't limping.

"How bad, Connor?" I asked calmly, reaching for his pants leg.

"Nay, Lass, not dat. Dat's cow's blood. Here," He said, twitching his leg away from me and indicating his wrapped arm.

Though Connor's shirt wasn't soaked in blood, when I unwrapped the makeshift bandage, I found a four inch nasty oozing slash on his forearm. "What the fuck, Connor? Murph? What happened?" I asked. "This is gonna smart, sweetie," I said, carefully pulling back on the skin to see how deep the cut was. It seemed to be about a half inch deep, completely through the skin and tiny fat layer and into the muscle. I didn't think it would need internal stitches but it would certainly require closure.

"Ooooh," Connor hissed though he held absolutely still. I wrapped his arm back up.

"You stay. Put pressure on it, it's gonna bleed again now that I've fucked with it."

I examined Murphy sitting in the other chair at the kitchen table. I dabbed at his eyebrow; it didn't look too bad. The knuckles on his right hand were busted as well. I smiled to myself fleetingly: justice indeed. Murphy would always have the swift right hook to make his point.

"You," I said, pointing at Connor. "You stay. And you," I looked at Murphy, "Go wash your face off, Murph. You'll need doctoring too." I said emphatically and went to get my emergency kit and wash my hands.

When I came back with peroxide and my medical gear, Murphy looked much better. I sat down in front of him and doused him with peroxide.

"Right. Now tell me what happened." I said calmly. He glanced sideways at Connor, flinching from the sting of the medication. I watched the peroxide bubble and hiss in Murphy's eyebrow and over his knuckles. I blew gently on the medication, like my mother used to do, hoping to take some of the pain away.

"Ye use peroxide an'not some fancy nursin' shit?" Connor asked in surprise.

"I do. Peroxide is best. Betadine is more for surgical prep. You should be lucky I'm not using Merthiolate on you two jackasses." I said sternly, frowning at them. I could tell they understood what I meant when Murphy's hand jerked involuntarily in mine and Connor flinched. Knowing I had the upper hand now, I said, "Right, then, lads, pony up. What happened?"

"Well," Murphy said, but trailed off.

"There was a problem at work, Lass."

"And?" I dabbed at the cut on Murphy's face, mulling over how best to care for it; butterfly bandages, most likely. It didn't warrant stitches. I made encouraging noises, concentrating on what I was doing.

"Well, ye remember Paddy O'Callahan from de bar Friday?" Murphy asked. I shook my head no as I applied the butterflies.

"You hush," I said to Murphy as I tilted his head for better access. I turned my head to Connor, "You, talk!"

Connor took up the story for Murphy. "We dinna like him much in de first place. An'den wit' him makin' unseemly comments about yer arse, Murph here took a bit o'umbrage." I made more encouraging noises.

"He asked me if yer arse looked as good wit'out de scrubs as it did in dem!" Murphy said indignantly. "So I swung at'im an' broke his nose." He said, grim satisfaction riding his voice. I started. They were fighting over me?

"I was clear across de room cuttin' steaks and couldn't stop wee Michael O'Callahan from cold cockin' Murph when his brudder Paddy went down."

"But when Paddy went down, he knocked a bunch o'knives on de floor and a big bucket o' cow's blood ower." Murphy said.

"Which bot'Michael an'I slipped in an' dats how I cut me arm." Connor finished. I sighed. The bandages looked good. I kissed Murphy's forehead gently.

"So have you been fired then?" I asked in resignation.

Connor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No, Lass. We just told de shop foreman to run de security tapes back to las' Saturday night." I looked at him blankly.

"The O'Callahan's were talkin' about takin' boxes o'product out de back door fer de Irish Mob on Friday and sure an'th'hills o'Ireland are green, dere de were. De're gone fer good. Cheatin' bastards." I smiled grimly at Connor.

"I see. I'm glad the luck of the Irish was with _these_ two brothers." I eyed them both and then sighed again. I changed the subject. "So, question for _you_, Connor."

He looked at me warily. "Aye?" I took a deep breath. I had used the time patching Murphy to settle my thoughts and formulate a plan of possible action to treat Connor.

"I can stitch your arm here. I have the stuff and I know how, though it is not something I usually do at work." I sighed again, regretting the possibility of causing Connor pain. "But I don't have any pain medication other than Tylenol." I paused, "I do have antibiotics here, but the stitching can't wait. Do you want to go to the ER or have me do it?" Connor stared hard at me for a minute, then looked at Murphy who nodded in response to whatever he had silently asked him.

"Here, Lass." He said firmly. "Ye may sound like a drill sergeant, but ye've a gentle touch, aye?" The corner of his mouth lifted wryly.

"It's gonna hurt." I warned. "A lot."

"I've got ye an'Murph. I'll be fine," Connor smiled grimly and nodded. "'Sides, I trust ye wit' yer hand around me cock, I t'ink I can trust ye to put in a few stitches," He joked.

Fifteen stitches and a shitload of profanity later, Connor was showered, bandaged, and settled on the sofa with ice on his arm and Tylenol in his system. The question of consummating the conversation earlier this morning never arose.


	27. Chapter 27

I groaned early Wednesday morning, rolling over onto Murphy. I had to go to work today and I wasn't looking forward to it.

"What is it, girl?" Murphy asked groggily.

"I have to go to work, Murph. Move so I can get up." Connor, as usual, didn't wake. Instead, Murphy pulled me fully onto his chest so I was sprawled over him.

"Aye, girl?" He asked, giving a sensuous body roll beneath me and rubbed his tongue along his lower lip. I forgot to breathe for a minute in fascination at his oral fixation. It also didn't help that I could feel his velvet cock against my belly.

"Do ye have to? We could all take de day off'n work an'stay here in bed," Murphy offered. I smiled involuntarily and wiggled up until I was positioned to my satisfaction. I could feel the length of him rubbing perfectly between my legs.

"No, Murph, I have to pay the bills." I said, rolling my hips against his in answer, teasing us both. "You know, washers and dryers and such?" I joked.

"Aye, I suppose," He said, disgruntled. "How long 'til we can do dis for real? I want inside ye, m'girl," He whined, fingers stroking my ass, calluses rubbing against my sensitized skin. I moaned. I bent my head, kissing him thoroughly as he fondled me. I knew I would never make it through the day in this state, not after living through yesterday too.

"Come take a shower with me?" I begged, avoiding his question. I couldn't believe how forward I was being, but I couldn't help it. The boys had thrown a switch in my head. Murphy just looked at me for a minute, holding absolutely still except to raise his uninjured eyebrow. "What?" I asked in confusion.

"I canna shower wit' ye, unless ye move off me chest." I laughed, causing a last bit of friction between our bodies before I rolled off of him and went to start the water running.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Murphy and I slowly teased each other to the brink as we showered together. We had scrubbed each other clean with soap, paying attention to all the good parts. Then, he had very gently washed my hair for me. It was one of the most sensuous things I had ever felt, his fingers massaging my scalp and parting sections of long hair to be rinsed.

Fortunately, my building didn't have trouble with hot water. I turned around to face him as the last suds swirled down the drain. I leaned against the wall of the shower as water pelted me, making my nipples stand erect. I watched Murphy slowly stroke himself as he watched me; he was beautiful. I licked my lips, dropping my own hand to touch myself. He leaned in to kiss me then and bent his head to fasten his lips to my nipple, tugging gently.

"Ye like dat, girl?" I nodded my head. Murphy pushed my hand of the way, replacing my fingers with his. "I want ye to come fer me." I moaned, bucking against his hand, my eyes closed in ecstasy as he expertly manipulated my clit.

"Turn around." He commanded. My eyes popped open in surprise.

"Aye, do it!" He turned me, positioning me against the wall, my arms stretched above my head. He held my wrists tightly, pressing his cock against the cheeks of my bottom.

"Spread yer legs, girl." He nudged my ankles apart, wedging a knee between mine. His right hand first caressed and pinched my nipple, then migrated down to stroke in rhythmic circles again. He stretched me further, pinning me to the wall with his body so my nipples touched the cold tiles. I moved involuntarily against the wall, rubbing the sensitized peaks against the cold.

"I like it when ye pleasure yerself, _a shearc_. (My love)." He slipped a finger inside me and wiggled against my g-spot.

"God, Murph." I moaned.

"Ye know how much I want inside ye right now?" He whispered seductively in my ear. He continued rubbing against me from behind, grinding himself against my ass. I nodded; I knew. I wanted him inside me to, quiet badly at this point as my hips jerked in response to his words.

"Murph." I said in warning. "We need Connor if….."

"Be quiet. Leave yer hands above yer head." He released my wrists, freeing his other hand to tease me more. I was beginning to pant, jerking my hips as he changed positions, rubbing my clit with his right and entering me with his fingers from behind.

"My fuckin' Lord, yer wet." He murmured. I was so close, I was shaking, my hands clutching the tile above my head, surrounded by hot and cold, and filled with Murphy.

"Ye know we're both goin' t'eventually want in ye at de same time, girl?" He asked, slipping a finger up my ass, making his meaning very clear. I moaned louder, arching and pushing back against his hand, telling him without words that I liked what he was doing to me.

"Ye'll love it." He muttered licking across my spine to my shoulder blade, nibbling along my neck, and then dropping kisses along my jawline. When he said this, he changed things again, sliding the finger of his left hand deeper inside me and thrusting two fingers of his right hand inside my pussy, his thumb rubbing against my sensitive nub.

"Ye'll love bein' filled wit' de bot'of us." He bit the side of my neck lightly, stroking inside me with both hands.

"We're goin' t'fuck ye very hard." He growled in my ear. I could feel a flood of wetness between my thighs. His words were doing as much for me now as his fingers and lips.

"First like dis." He moved the fingers of this right hand in and out, leaving the finger in my ass still. I bucked against him, my nipples rubbing against the cold tiles as I arched.

"An'den like dis." He alternated stroking his fingers in an out.

"We'll fuck ye fer a very long time." I moaned his name in response to his whispered words, begging.

"Ye'll beg fer more as ye clamp down on de two o'us wit'yer body as ye come." He told me as he continued to stroke his fingers inside me. His tongue traveled up my neck to my ear, dropping small kisses and then biting my earlobe.

"And ye'll scream our names because ye won't be able t'help yerself." He bit my neck at the juncture of my shoulder very hard. I knew it would leave a mark, but I didn't care.

"Murph," I moaned over and over as I began to shake with orgasm, my hips jerking against his body involuntarily.

"Aye, girl, come fer me now; keep moanin' my name."

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When I came back from Murphy's assault on my senses, it was to find he had me held loosely in his arms, supporting my weight. I laughed a little shakily. "I don't think I can stand, Murph." I turned my head to kiss him.

"Ye liked it den?" He asked. I nodded, rubbing back against him. I could still feel his hardness pressed against me. Murphy turned off the taps and handed me out of the shower.

"Ye okay?" He asked making sure I was steady before letting me go. I nodded as I wrung water out of my hair and started to wrap it back in a knot. Murphy made some inarticulate sound and I looked up in surprise. I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Leave it down, _a shearc_ (My love). I want yer hair to spread out around ye." I smiled as I pushed him to half sit, half lean against the vanity. He had waited so long, exerted so much self control in the shower, I didn't think I should make him wait any longer. I knelt in front of him and took him deep inside my mouth, all the way to the base of his cock. He was very, very hard.

"Holy God," Murphy moaned, spreading my wet hair out in his lap. "Hot an' cold an' everyt'ing in between. Dinna stop, girl. I'm not gonna last long." I sucked hard, pulling him all the way in, then back up to swirl my tongue around his head to watch his face. I cupped his balls and gently stroked with a circling motion of my fingers. I ran the fingers of my other hand from his ankle to his collar bone, touching every part of his skin I could reach. He was still wet and slippery from the shower and it felt amazing. I tweaked his nipple and felt his cock twitch spasmodically in response. So, I thought, he likes that too.

His fingers were twined in my hair, urging my movements, telling me what he wanted; what he liked. I looped both hands around his ankles and used my nails to raise goose bumps as I brought my hands up his legs to once again cup and stroke his balls. I could hear him moan in response and he squeezed his eyes closed tightly, bit his lip, and threw his head back. I took him deep again, repeating the maneuver over and over until he spilled himself inside my mouth. When the last aftershocks from his body stopped, I still sucked and stroked him, waiting for him to tell me when to stop. I smiled up at him with my eyes, waiting.

"Aye, girl, ye keep dat up an'we'll have t'go fer round two. Best stop now." I let him go with an audible pop and stood.

"Now, that's a nice wake up call, yes?"

"Aye," He said, drying himself thoroughly with one of my fluffy white towels. "Connor'll be jealous, me havin' ye all t'meself dis morn."

"Ah, he'll get his." I said. Studiously applying toothpaste to my tooth brush, I asked diffidently, "Murph, what you said in the shower?"

"Aye?" He asked. "I said a lot'a t'ings in de shower." I turned to him, ignoring the heat that flushed my skin from embarrassment. I could see the ghost of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

"About the both of you?"

"Aye?" He asked warily.

"I'll think about it." I said firmly. "It's just that…." I trailed off. Murphy came to stand beside me, gently cupping my cheek. I ran my hands across his shoulders, along his collarbone and down his chest. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my nose just in the center of his chest, inhaling and calming myself with his scent.

"What?"

"I'm scared. I've never done anything like what you suggested before. And, it can be dangerous….." I admitted. "And, um painful." Murphy tilted my head up to smile at me, crinkling his bright blue eyes.

"In dis case, _a chroí_ (my heart), neither have we. We wilna hurt ye though, I promise. And we wilna rush ye either. You say when." He kissed me very gently, giving rather than taking, like he had done once before.

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Mumbling around toothpaste, I asked "What did you call me, Murph?" He spit out his own toothpaste, looking up guiltily. I waited him out, not pressing, just waiting for his nature to supply the answer. I finished brushing my teeth and dried my face.

Finally, he said, "Connor will kill me if I tell ye." He nibbled endearingly on his upper lip with his teeth. I looked at him in exasperation.

"It can't be that bad, Murph. Tell me. It sounded like you said 'ah-hree'." I said, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables. "Honesty is important," I finished mildly. I could see the resolve coalesce in his face at this oblique manipulation.

"I called ye me 'heart.'" He said quietly. "It's a term of endearment in de _Gaeilge._" The tips of his ears were pink. I could feel my own heart squeeze with emotion at his words, a mixture of fear, anticipation, joy, and what I thought might be the seed of love.

"Ah," I said, leaning in to kiss this beautiful dark twin. "Thank you. I like ye fine too, Laddie."


	28. Chapter 28

I didn't bother to dress as I moved into the bedroom. I turned to raise an eyebrow at Murphy, silently asking him what he thought. He nodded at me.

"Ye can try it." He said, pulling one of my hard backed chairs from the desk to watch. I pulled back the covers and licked Connor's cock from stem to tip. He snorted in his sleep and his hard cock twitched, but he didn't wake. I looked at Murphy questioningly. He just nodded, so I tried it again. This time, Connor moaned, the fingers of his left hand threading through my hair as he pulled me towards his arching hips.

"Mary, Joseph, an'Bride." Connor mumbled. "Dis is how a lad is _supposed_ t'wake." I just giggled, bending my head take him deep inside, letting his velvet hardness fill my mouth, sucking hard. I knew in this position we would be giving Murphy a first-class view.

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I collapsed on Connor's lap after he came. I was impressed with the diversity of what I thought were swear words that poured out of his mouth; I must have done it right. Connor was breathing hard and Murphy shifted uncomfortably on the chair. I raised an eyebrow at him. After our morning shower, I felt different with him, some sort of new level of intimacy reached.

"Aye, girl, watchin' ye suck me brudder is hot as hell. I want ye agin." He admitted; I could see the evidence stiff in his lap. I glanced at the clock, it was a little after six.

"Can't Murph. Gotta go to work myself. Go make some coffee for us?" He stood and walked to the bed, sliding a finger inside my still dripping pussy as I knelt next to Connor. I jerked automatically against his hand, my body becoming trained to his touch.

"Aye, girl, I can do dat." He smirked at me, slipping his fingers in and out of me. I looked back over my shoulder at him. He pulled out of me and brought his hand to his lips to lick and then suck his finger, staring at Connor. Even though Connor had just come, I could feel his cock twitch under my cheek as he looked at his brother's hand. With an pop, Murphy released his index finger from his mouth, looking back at me.

"As long as ye t'ink about what de t'ree of us talked about de other morn,' aye?" He turned to put on boxers, making my mouth water with lust looking at the beautiful backside of him. As he walked out of the room, he added "_And_ what we talked about in de shower." Connor looked at me in inquiry, pushing my hair back behind my ears. I could feel my heart thump with a twinge of fear mixed with anticipation.

"He'll tell you later, I'm sure." I laughed, trying to cover my momentary discomforting thoughts. Connor nodded, pulling me up to kiss me very gently. He started slowly, just brushing his lips, feather light, against mine. Then, he edged his tongue along the seam of my lips, licking as his left hand threaded into my hair. He pulled me closer, asking for entrance. When I pulled back slightly opening my eyes, he frowned.

"Open fer me, _a shearc_ (my lover), I want to taste ye." It was the first time Connor had used the term, but it still sounded like a-hark to my ears.

"Ah," I hesitated. "You don't mind then?" I asked obliquely, waving in the general direction of his lower body. He laughed.

"Nay, Lass, I dinna mind in de least. Means ye've given me pleasure, aye? Not a bad t'ing to be reminded of." He pulled me close. "Open fer me, Lass. Now!"

He tasted delicious and smelled like sleepy wonderfully male Connor. I felt my heart squeeze again as he slanted his lips across mine, exploring my mouth thoroughly. His lips were very soft. My breath hitched when he began nibbling at my lips, nipping and then biting down and sucking on my lower lip. He slowly pulled away, looking at me closely.

"Ye like dat?" I nodded. He narrowed his eyes in calculation and pulled me up a little further with his good left arm, positioning me to his satisfaction so that I was sprawled over his chest, not unlike what I had done earlier with Murphy. I could feel his cock between my legs and I wiggled against him for better adjustment.

"Aye? What else do ye like?" I bent my head forward to kiss him, first feather light. I was just to the point of exploring his mouth thoroughly when Murphy smacked me on the ass. I jerked in surprise, pulling back and sitting up, straddling Connor. Connor's hands automatically rose to cup my breasts and rub my nipples. I fleetingly thought it was good that he was slower and more guarded with the right. The sting on my left butt cheek began to tingle and I rubbed against Connor's semi-hard cock under me, moaning.

"She likes dat too, I'd say," Murphy smirked as he pulled his jeans on. I swiveled my head to watch as he buckled his belt. I could feel a flood of wetness between my legs, watching him. I knew Connor could too when he grunted underneath me. "But, ye best get off'n me brudder an'get dressed, m'girl." Murphy glanced meaningfully at the bedside clock. "It's a'ready half six."

"Shit!" I said, scrambling for my scrubs.


	29. Chapter 29

"What time de ye have t'go, Lass?" Connor asked, pulling on his own jeans.

I looked at the clock, calculating. "About five minutes, Connor." I was lucky I didn't wear makeup, I thought, hurrying to wrap my hair in a loose bun. I could see Connor look at Murphy for a moment and his brother nodded at him.

"Right, den. We'll take ye t'work. Means we'll be a bit early ourselves, but we'll see ye safe to yer door." Connor said emphatically, coming to stand behind me and holding my eyes in the mirror. "_And_ pick ye up tonight too. No ridin' de T wit'out one or t'other of us, aye?"

I just nodded my head obediently at Connor's order and turned to touch Murphy's cheek as a promise that I would do as he had asked earlier. "I promise," I said aloud to Connor's command. I could see Connor narrow his eyes suspiciously at something in our body language and hurried to provide a caveat.

"Connor, you do too much today with that arm and I'll wring your neck. Take it easy, hmm?" As an afterthought, I added, "And don't forget to take those antibiotics."

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The boys picked me up that night outside the hospital and convinced me a beer at the bar would be a good idea after I had carefully inspected Connor's arm. But, I was drooping with fatigue by the end of the second round, a combination of alcohol, no dinner, a long day, and dissipated adrenalin from work; I still had two shifts to go.

"Um, boys," I said, interrupting some story about numbers and slips and the Irish Mob, half the conversation discussed in English and the other half in what I thought was a combination of Spanish and Latin. Both boys immediately focused on me. "Guys, I gotta go. I'm fallin' asleep on my ass. I gotta lay down." I could see the looks of dismay reflected in each other. I hurried to reassure them.

"Stay here. I'll get home safe and see you tomorrow night." As I trailed off, I thought Connor might explode. Murphy's hands were clenched at his sides.

"What?" I asked, dumbly.

"What? Are'ye, insane?"

"Ye'll not be doin' dat, Lass."

"Like we'd let ye wander around dis city alone."

"Or sleep alone, fer dat matter."

"Nay, girl, ye'll be sleepin' wit' us fer de foreseeable future."

"Ok, then what do you suggest?" I said impatiently, wishing for a pillow and sheets. Neither man answered, just turned as one to the bar to settle the bill.

"We'll see ye Friday den Doc, call us if ye need us." Connor shouted over his shoulder as he escorted us from the bar, me stumbling with fatigue.

Tonight, perhaps because they didn't want to risk taking me on the T, they walked me two blocks over to the loft. They undressed me matter of factly and dumped me in Murphy's bed. I fear I was asleep before my head hit the pillow, their scent filling my dreams with sweetness.

The last thing I heard was Connor's worried voice, "I t'ink we may ha'underestimated how hard de lass really works. She shouldn't be dis tired."


	30. Chapter 30

I woke in the loft the next morning to the soft sounds of summer outside and Connor's body wrapped around mine from behind. Murphy faced me, still asleep. I gently brought my hand up to smooth the hair away from his forehead. The smell in the room made my mouth water and desire pool in my pelvis. It smelled like the boys with a whiff of whiskey, coffee, and nicotine added in. We all slept close in Murphy's bed, three of us squished together in the double. I must be getting a little more used to them as it felt comfortable and cared for, not claustrophobic at all this time. Connor snored gently in my ear, nuzzling my neck with his hand tucked between my breast and the mattress. Murphy's right hand held my hip and my legs were tangled with his.

"Murph?" I asked quietly watching his face. He opened his eyes sleepily.

"Aye, girl?" I took a deep breath, hoping I wasn't crossing some stupid relationship line.

"I think you're beautiful when you sleep. You look so peaceful."

"Aye? So yer sayin' when I'm not asleep, I'm not peaceful?" He questioned. He wasn't supposed to be this coherent without coffee, I thought, frowning.

"No, Murph, you're just beautiful."

"Good, _a ghrá a chroí_." (My heart's beloved). He grunted, closing his eyes, and scooted closer to wrap his right arm around me. "So are you." I could see the ghost of smile lifting the right side of his as he brought his lips to mine for a soft kiss.

"Ye'll have t'be at work soon, aye?" I nodded. "A'right, I'll go get de shower goin.' It'll do me good; it runs cold fer at least ten minutes. Get de coffee started, aye?" He slapped my ass gently and I bucked my hips involuntarily. His eyes swiveled to mine, checking his movement to get out of bed.

"Ye _do_ like dat, huh?" When I nodded, he did that little lippy thing with his mouth then unconsciously rubbed his tongue over his lower lip. "Connor said ye liked yer bum smacked. I t'ink I like ye even better, knowin' dis, ye dirty little girl." He laughed as he walked away to shower.

I watched his lily white ass as he headed away from me, thinking that's _my_ lily white arse, brother. I sighed and rolled over into Connor's arms, giving Murphy some privacy with the toilet which hadn't changed at all from the previous weekend, still crouching against the wall in all its glory.

I studied Connor's face. He was so petty, curled into me, his face relaxed in sleep. I hated to wake him, but we still had to go by my place for clean scrubs. I thought about getting up to start the coffee, but then remembered it was a percolator. There was no way I was going to be able to make a pot that would meet the boys' standards with only one hung-over lesson on the unfamiliar equipment almost a week ago.

"Connor," I ran my hands across his collarbone, making him snort in his sleep and burrow closer to me. His left hand came up to curl around my breast though he still didn't wake. My breath hitched, seeing the tattoo curved perfectly around me. I scooted closer in response, tangling my legs with his. I had a bit of time yet and it didn't seem like he was going to wake. So, I did what I had wanted to do since I first saw him without his shirt. I just looked and touched him without the pressure of him or his brother observing me. I felt quite secretive and very pleased.

His body was beautifully sculpted. I started with his left eyebrow, gently running my fingertip along the line of hair, noting once again the scar that marred it. It gave him his fallen angel look. His long eyelashes curled against this cheek which made him look very young in sleep. I trailed a finger tip down his cheek to his jawline. The scruff on their cheeks would cause whisker burn on my face if we weren't careful, I thought, but it might be interesting if they used that on other parts my very sensitive skin. I wiggled a bit, freeing my arm to touch him more.

His tattoos were absolutely stunning in the bright morning light. The symmetry of his left hand made me bite my lip though the nursing part of my brain noted the perfect veins too. If I ever had to start an IV, it would be a snap. I looked closely at the Celtic knots in the cross on his forearm, marveling at the detail and exquisite artistry. It was by far and away one of the most incredible things I had ever seen: and there were two of them, I thought wryly, thinking of the mirrored tattoo in the shower. I wondered who the artist was; I'd have to ask.

I trailed a finger up his arm, watching the ripple of muscle. The long muscles of his arm were smooth and defined; triceps and biceps flowing smoothly into the rounded muscle of the deltoid. He must have less than ten percent body fat I thought. I softly traced the Mother Mary tattoo on the side of his neck, making him burrow even closer to me. I lifted my hand, afraid I would wake him, but he settled back into sleep, a tiny smile on his lips. I frowned in absorption. The smile slowly faded. When I touched his neck again, it came back. Huh, I thought, even in sleep he likes his neck touched. I filed that information away for later.

I reached to run my hand from the nape of his neck, across his shoulder blade and down the smooth curve of his back to curl on the iliac crest; his skin was like silk, so I did it again. The second time I did it, I noticed it brought my face forward into his chest. I inhaled very slowly, smelling him. I repeated the long slow breath, savoring it. Lord, but he smelled wonderful: sleepy male and pheromones and Connor. I shivered, my hand gripping his hip, curling my fingers on his butt. Then I glanced down at his chest.

His pectoral muscles where beautifully molded and nearly hairless. The planes of his stomach were rock hard and flat. His traverse abdominal muscles were sharply defined, causing that ripped down look he had when his jeans rode low on his hips. I smiled at the faint line of hair running from his belly button into the brown hair nesting between his legs. I couldn't see all the way under the covers, but I knew what was there. I think I may have moaned.

"What are ye doin,' girl?" Murphy asked quietly from the edge of the bed.

"Takin' stock." I said as I jerked my hand off the curve of Connor's hip, a tell tale blush staining my cheeks at being busted. With the shower running and my fascination, I hadn't heard Murphy's quiet footfalls.

"Ye like his body, den?" He asked, nodding at Connor's sleeping form curled around me, but watching me closely, his eyes narrowed. I turned a little in Connor's arms so I could better see Murphy's naked body.

"I do," I smiled, being honest. "But I like yours too." I let my eyes travel down his body slowly from heavily muscled shoulders and arms to his ankles. I let a tiny bit of lasciviousness into my expression.

"Pfft." He smirked, looking up at me beneath his eyebrows as he turned away to pull on his boxers and jeans. "We haven't time fer dat m'girl, if'n ye want t'be on time t'work? I see ye did'na make coffee." He said censoriously.

"Come on, git yer ass outta bed and in t'the shower." He gently chided when I didn't move. I sighed. He was right. I slowly disengaged from Connor and scooched out of bed to get into the shower.

"Dere's only two ways t'wake me brudder." Murphy said, smirking at me. "We found one out de other mornin'. I'll show ye de other." He roughly shook Connor's shoulder and smacked him in the back of the head. "Get up! Ye lazy bastard!"

"Fuck! Murph!" Connor bellowed. I scampered to the shower, avoiding the ruckus.


	31. Chapter 31

**Norman fans, you'll like this one...I loved the meme that said: You may think you're cool. But you'll never be Norman Reedus in an apron, smoking, while sipping from a mug with your own face on it. Go Google the image if you haven't seen it**

My day had been absolute hell. The only reason I was still standing was because I had to in order to get home. I drug myself out of the ER to find Connor standing in front of the doors, smoking nervously. There was no Murphy in sight. I had a fleeting thought: why had Connor been on the T for the last four months without Murphy?

"Hi, Connor," I mustered, smiling feebly. "Where's Murph?" Connor reached up to unwind my hair from the loose bun I kept it in at work. When it came loose, he rubbed my neck, looking into my eyes. He dropped his forehead to rest against mine.

"Tough day den, Lass?" He asked, ignoring my question. He cradled my head in his left arm, running the fingers of his right hand through my hair.

"The worst," I mumbled. I was so distraught I didn't think I could manage more.

"Are ye okay den, to get ye back to yer flat?"

"I'm okay, Connor, I just need to get home and take a shower."

"Christ, Lassie!" He said, crossing himself automatically and then wrapping his right arm around my waist. "What did ye do today to wear yerself out so?" I laid my head on his shoulder, grateful for the support in walking to the T. I could feel him loom over me, protecting me, and some of the stress of the day bled off.

"Careful with your arm, Connor," I cautioned softly. He made a "Mmph" sound of assent, but didn't speak further and didn't take his right arm from around me.

"It would take too long to tell you," I mumbled, resisting telling him what happened. I usually used my time on the T in the evening to examine my day and mentally shelve all the horrible things I saw and had to do to help people. It would be odd to say things out loud.

"Just lay it out in simple terms, Lass. I kin see it on yer face dat somet'ing bad happened today." I could feel the worry in Connor as he alternated between watching my face and watching around us as we stood on the platform. I relented; sometimes knowing was better than imagining. If I told him a little bit about my day, maybe he would stop fussing.

"Ah, it started out trying to save an 88 year old man who had been beaten," I bit my lip, anger and frustration and pain choking my voice off. I squeezed the fingers of his left hand hard, fighting for control.

"What!"

"Yeah, an 88 year old World War II vet. Beaten by some teenagers. No reason. No rhyme. When the medics brought him in, they had a thready pulse. Our trauma team could see it wasn't gonna be any use though, there was gray matter showing." I sighed. "But we tried anyhow. For over an hour."

"Gray matter?"

"Brains." I said flatly. "We lost his pulse just as they hit the ER doors and we started CPR. But, there wasn't a damn thing we could do to get him back. Neurosurgeon finally called it." The train arrived, distracting me from the remembered feel of cracked ribs rubbing against the sternum, the squishy sensation of a heart that couldn't beat on its own.

"I see." Connor said quietly, seating me on the T and tucking me close to his side. I looked up at him, seeing a stony grimness on his features. In contrast, his touch was light, feathering through my hair and stroking my neck with his left hand.

"I think you do," I said softly. "Should I keep going?"

"Dere's more?"

"Of course!" I said in surprise. "Connor, there's _always_ more."

"Only if ye want, Lass. No wonder ye dinna like t'talk about yer job." I sighed and leaned into him, inhaling Connor's unique scent, letting his touch and smell soothe my state of mind.

I thought about all the other things I did today, the cracked out hooker, the 14 year old ruptured appendix screaming in pain, the crazy man jacked on PCP who tried to kill half the ER staff, the 92 year old broken hip, the indigent family of five who used the ER as their doctor's office because they had no insurance. My ER was an endless litany of broken bodies and minds, whether from age, or the choices made in life, or just dumb bad luck. I shook my head, shelving each one of the memories, shaking off the day and relaxing into Connor.

Connor half carried me home from our T stop. When he opened the door, Murphy turned from the stove. I drooped into the kitchen while Connor paused to toe off his boots by the door. The sight of Murphy, after I rounded the breakfast bar, made me shake off my fatigue.

I eyed my counters in speculation—they were a disaster-but chose instead to look Murphy up and down carefully. I giggled. He had an unlit cigarette hanging from his lip and another tucked behind his ear. His hair was all spiky like he had been running his hands through it in frustration. He was shirtless as usual in the heat of a Boston June, clad only in low riding blue jeans and a belt. I giggled again.

The problem was the apron. It was white with a cartoonish man holding his face in his hands and the word Fuck written across the top. Though it made his shoulders look like they were a mile wide, it was making me laugh. His right nipple begged to be pinched as it peeked around the apron.

"What?" Murph smirked, deftly fingering his unlit cigarette from his lip to first kiss me and then take a sip of something from his coffee mug. He cocked a hip. I just pointed at the apron, giggling some more.

"What?" Murph asked again, looking down at himself innocently. When his tongue ran across his lower lip automatically, it ruined the innocent look entirely.

"That's the funniest thing I've seen in my life!" I choked out, laughing. "Really, Murph? Fuck?" I asked, laughing so hard I could barely get the words out. "An _apron_?"

"Come, Lass, let's get ye inta'de shower, aye? She's hysterical, Murph."

"Fuck." I giggled some more but turned willingly with Connor as he led me to the bedroom. I whispered loudly, "Do you think the apron will help, or will he still poison us with his cooking?" I was still giggling and snorting when Connor led me into the bathroom.

"Strip!" He pointed his left index finger at me. I was still prone to the occasional giggle. "Now!" He turned on the water, letting it get hot while I took off my scrubs. I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest for a minute. I could feel the urge to cry well up in my own chest, but held it back. Connor ran his fingers through my hair.

"Do ye always laugh like dis after de day ye had?" He asked softly.

"Sometimes." I said, my voice choked now with emotion. "It's a defense mechanism against the horror of it." My heard my voice quaver a little and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent again. "We all do it. Cops. Firemen. Paramedics. It's the medics that get the worst of it."

"Ah. Sure dey do." Connor hushed me running his hands from my neck, across my shoulders, and down my back, over and over. When I finally calmed down, Connor spoke again, "Shower, den food, den sleep. Murphy won't poison us, I promise. Ye'll feel better in the morning, Lass. But shower, first. Go on." He handed me into the tub.


	32. Chapter 32

**Do you recognize Donut? Reviews please...**

I walked out the ER doors at 7:40 on Friday into gorgeous evening sunshine with my best friend Kelly at my side. Today had been a better day. Slow like some Friday's could be, saving up the shenanigans for Friday night, I thought wryly. Even better, I had slept a full ten hours after surviving a meal made by Murphy. I chided myself for my ungracious thought; the food was good. Simple, but good: salad, omelets, fresh fruit. My kitchen, on the other hand, had barely survived. I gave the boys credit though, when I got up this morning with Murphy, everything was again spotless. Murphy had brought me to work, leaving Connor asleep in bed.

I smiled when I saw them loitering at the corner of the building, smoking. I felt my heart squeeze with happiness. Connor's dark blond hair glinted in the sun as he petted a stocky, cinnamon colored, gray-bearded pretty mongrel leashed to a post, rubbing her ears and scratching her neck. Murphy was talking to Connor, using his hands to emphasize his point while deftly holding his cigarette, the smoke curling around his head. Their hands were so beautiful, I thought.

"Beautiful aren't they?" I whispered to Kelly, echoing my thought, as Connor bent to pet the dog again and Murphy exhaled. Kelly was an ER nurse, single, and very pretty in the way blonds have: blue-eyed, vivacious, and amazing.

"Holy shit!" She breathed back. "Which one is yours?" I smirked at her, but then both boys did their magnet thing again and my breath hitched. First their heads swiveled to identify us and then they walked straight to me.

I hadn't exactly told Kelly the whole truth, unsure how to explain that I was essentially living with both of them. She was Catholic too, as were many of my coworkers. My heart squeezed again, this time with worry. We hadn't discussed how to act in public, it had just been natural to hold Murphy's hand and have Connor's arm around my shoulder. Now that the situation was imminent, I was concerned on behalf of the boys; they were so devout, I didn't want to cause them any problems. I was having serious qualms about introducing my best friend to the MacManus brothers.

Connor bent his head to kiss me fiercely, making me lose my train of thought. As he pulled away, he murmured, "I took it easy as ordered, Nurse Ratched." He pulled the bandage back so I could see. It appeared to be healing well. While Kelly and I both examined the neat line of stitches, I was able to squeeze Murphy's fingers gently, shake my head slightly, and give a tiny nod towards Kelly. He smiled grimly, narrowing his eyes, but let my fingers go.

"How the fuck did you do that?" Kelly asked. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Kelly." She held out her hand to Connor.

"Connor, this is my best friend." I watched them as they shook hands.

"Hi," Connor smiled, angling his arm so Kelly could inspect it, better. "I had a wee accident at work de other day an'de lass here patched me up fit t'beat de band." God, he was laying it on thick. I knew what an Irish accent would do to Kelly. She made appropriate clucking noises over the injury as I re-wrapped the bandage for him.

"And this is his brother Murphy." I said, trying for no inflection in my voice, nodding my head in his direction. Kelly let go of Connor's hand and turned to say hello to Murphy, smiling prettily up at him. Murphy narrowed his eyes at me, though he took her proffered fingers willingly enough. When they were done shaking, I could see Murphy edge away to angle his body closer to mine, but he didn't touch me. He chewed nervously on the tip of his right thumb.

"Long shift, Lass?" I shook my head.

"Up for a pint den, girl?" I nodded this time, resisting the natural urge to lace my fingers with Murphy's left. Connor slung his right arm over my shoulders. I looked at Kelly and raised my eyebrows.

"Would you like to come with us?" Connor asked. It would be nice to have the time with Kelly to further put away the memories of our week. It would be worth the discomfort of not knowing how to explain the boys, I thought.

"Where are you going?" Kelly asked. I turned to Connor.

"McGinty's?" I queried.

"Aye, Lass."

"In Southie?" When I nodded my head, Kelly smiled hugely. "Oh _hell_, yeah! Let's."

"Shall we den?" Connor asked, tucking my left arm through his. I nodded, smiling as he turned, leading us to the T and eventually to the bar. As we came through the door, the four of us were laughing like loons at a joke Connor told us from work. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed a dark, long haired man look up from his beer.

"Roc!" Murphy shouted, moving around Connor and me, his hand just brushing my ass as he threw both his arms up in a touchdown motion. Murphy and the dark haired man hugged exuberantly.

"How are ye, Roc?" Connor asked with just as much excitement, pounding the man on the shoulder in male appreciation.

"I'm good boys, and how are you?" He asked, eyeing Kelly and I appreciatively. Not waiting for their reply, he next asked, "And _who_ might this be?" I could detect a bit of facetiousness in his tone, and, his gaze seemed to dwell more on me than Kelly.

"Roc," Connor said, wrapping his fingers around my hand and pulling me forward. "Dis is our girl Shannon. Shannon dis is our best buddy Rocco." Shit, I thought with dismay, he said 'our.' But, I could see the grin of satisfaction on Connor's face as he urged me forward to shake the new man's hand, so I let it go and smiled gamely.

"Hi," I said, smiling. "It's nice to meet you, Rocco." I looked at the man's face closely. Minus the wild mane of hair on his face and head, he was really good looking. Not pretty like the two boys that flanked me, but ruggedly handsome; he had interesting dark blue eyes with a gentle expression. He seemed sweet and maybe kind? It was obvious the MacManus brothers loved him.

"Hi there." Rocco echoed back shyly.

"And this is my friend, Kelly." I turned to introduce her.


	33. Chapter 33

**If you've never seen the video of SPF telling Norman's horse story, you need to. It's on Youtube. **

**As always, reviews are welcome; I like the feedback to see if I'm doing this right..**

**This one is for CarAnn...**

Kelly and I figured we would give the boys some bonding time and sidled off to the bar to order a round of drinks. Kelly was very interested in Murphy, asking innumerable questions which I tried to deflect as best I could, keeping it strictly to the truth and as minimal a possible.

When we returned to the men, they were sitting in a booth. Connor stood up to let me slide in and Kelly sat down next to Murphy, putting him across from me with Rocco in a chair at the end of the table. I sipped my beer, listening to the conversation flow around me.

Connor was being exceptionally funny tonight, making Rocco and Kelly laugh. He was constantly in motion, waving a hand, touching my hair, holding my fingers, stroking my neck. Connor told an extremely funny story about Murphy and horses during our first round of drinks, making us all laugh until the point of tears. Murph laughed too, but I could tell he was also embarrassed. When we finally stopped giggling and could breathe again, there was a lull in the conversation. That was when Kelly asked the boys about their tattoos and I shifted in anticipation, threading my fingers into Connor's right hand. I wanted to know too.

"We tattoo each other," Connor said proudly, angling his left arm out so Kelly and I could see it. "Murph's got a good eye and a fine hand, if I do say so." Kelly made an inarticulate noise of appreciation.

"You tattoo each other?" I asked in surprise.

"Aye," Murphy smirked, smoking curling around his head as he exhaled.

"We dinna trust anyone else t'do it. Murph designed dem too." Connor boasted about his brother. I could see the artistry and symmetry of the designs coming from Murphy, the quieter, darker twin.

"They're beautiful." Kelly exclaimed. "And the Latin on your fingers?" She pursued this line of questioning.

"Ach, t'go wit' de crosses an' de Mother Mary on our necks." When we both looked at Connor blankly, he continued, "If ye dinna like de truth, I'll make ye see it clear." He made a fist. "And if ye _still _dinna get de truth, den de swift hand o'justice will follow shortly after, aye?" Connor smiled and nodded at Murphy's right hand which had automatically fisted as well.

We all paused at that, looking at the boys' hands. Truth and justice mirrored each other, but I knew it meant far more; I could feel it in them.

"And this one?" Kelly asked, touching the star on the knuckle of Murphy's thumb. Murphy just grunted and looked down, fidgeting; he lit another cigarette and blew a smoke ring. I watched his hands carefully. They were truly beautiful, sculpted and strong. They were the hands of an artist and a carpenter, I thought; calloused, tough, the nails blunt cut and even. I knew how hard the boys had to work to get their hands clean after a day at the plant, scrubbing the Fels-Naptha.

"Dat's one of de first ones I did," Connor looked at his brother's hand, face softening in reflection at the memory. "We were 18 and he let me try. I'm not de artist Murph is," He finished deprecatingly. Ah, I thought, looking involuntarily at Murphy and smiling. That explained Murphy's other tattoos: the demon-angels, the snake, the tiny heart on his wrist, the name tattooed over his heart. He was letting Connor practice before he did the ones with religious import.

The conversation changed pace again, Kelly and me talking while the boys discussed the local business in the district. At one point, I felt Connor tense and look at Murphy who then swiveled his head to glance over the banquet. I looked up suspiciously to see two men enter the bar. The first man had two black eyes, likely from a broken nose; must be the infamous Paddy O'Callahan, I thought as the man looked hard at me. Connor's hand tightened on mine briefly, letting me know I was safe. I held Paddy's stare for a moment longer, memorized the face of the man behind him, and then refocused on Kelly.

After the second round was served, I watched Murphy closely; he just got quieter and quieter, smoked more and more, and fidgeted incessantly. It was odd behavior for Murphy and I wondered why. Connor's earlier story was very funny, but perhaps he didn't like embarrassing stories told in public? Or maybe he didn't appreciate Connor giving out information about their tattoos? Could he not like the praise of his artistic talent? Or was the problem the O'Callahan brothers in the bar?

I felt Murphy's foot come down on mine under the table. I frowned over at him; he was leaning against the wall with his right hand loosely holding a glass of beer. He was still a little fidgety and his body language was tense but not extreme, I thought.

I gave a tiny shake of my head, trying to follow the course of the conversation between Kelly, Connor, and Rocco. I didn't want to have a serious conversation in the bar with Murphy about important stuff. He pressed down further, giving the tiniest chin jerk in the direction of the bathroom behind Connor. He lifted his right index finger just slightly, indicating I should get up. I didn't have to pee so I shook him off again, moving my foot to try to escape the pressure. During a burst of laughter from the group, Murphy said quietly, "Now."

I wouldn't deny him when he used that serious, commanding tone of voice. I squeezed Connor's hand. When he looked at me, I murmured. "Let me out. I gotta use the bathroom."

"Aye, Lass, I'll walk ye back though. The O'Callahan brothers are here tonight." I scanned the room quickly, but couldn't pick them out in the crowded bar.

"Nah, Connor, I'll take her." Murphy moved to get up and Kelly scooted out the booth to let him up. I was surprised the brothers hadn't done their silent communication thing. "I'm goin' dat direction anyhow." He ushered me in front of him, a hand on my elbow to guide me.


End file.
